THE 


TWO  SCHOOLS: 


A  MORAL  TALE. 


BY    MRS.    HUGHS. 


BALTIMORE: 

PUBLISHED  BY  FIELDING  LUCAS,  JR. 
KO.    170    MARKET    STREET. 


ENTERED  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1335,  by 

ST.  JOHN'S  ORPHAN  ASYLK.M, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


TO 

©rpjjans  of  St. 

nsms 


WHICH     WAS    WBITTF.  y     FOR    T  It  K  1  H     BENEFIT, 

IS 
A  F  FE  CT  I  ONAT  E  L  V      INSCRIBED 

BY 
THEIR     SINCERE     FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


2057013 


THE   TWO  SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  MY  dear  mamma,  I  am  delighted  to  find  you 
alone,"  said  Augusta  Monkton,  as  she  entered  the 
parlour  in  which  her  mother  was  seated,  "  for  I  aro 
come  to  beg  a  favour  of  you." 

"  It  is  of  little  consequence,  Augusta,"  replied  Mrs. 
Monkton,  "  whether  I  am  alone  or  not ;  for  you  seldom 
find  me  disposed  to  refuse  your  requests,  however  I 
may  be  situated." 

"  But  the  favour  I  am  going  to  beg  is  different  from 
any  that  I  ever  before  asked,  and  one  that  I  am  afraid 
you  will  not  be  very  willing  to  grant." 

"  Then,  I  suspect,  my  dear,"  returned  the  mother, 
"  that  your  conscience  tells  you  it  is  one  I  ought  not 
to  grant." 

"  O,  no  !  mamma ;  indeed,  on  the  contrary,  I  think 
it  is  only  what  I,  as  your  only  child,  have  a  right  to 
expect ;  for  it  is  an  indulgence  which  is  daily  granted  by 
parents  to  children  that  are  far  from  having  such  claims 
upon  them." 

"  Well,  let  me  hear  what  it  is ;  and  I  can  only  say, 
that  few  petitions  are  offered  up  where  there  is  a 
stronger  disposition  to  grant  them.  Now,  let  me  hea 
this  great  affair  at  once." 

A3  5 


0  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  "Well  then — but  first,  mamma,  tell  me  if  I  have  not 
taken  more  pains  than  usual  to  oblige  and  please  you 
~nd  papa." 

"  How  far  back  do  you  intend  that  I  should  date 
your  period  of  amendment  ?  An  hour,  or  a  day,  or  a 
week,  or  how  long  ?" 

"O!  much  longer  than  that,  mamma,"  replied 
Augusta,  indignantly,  while  her  cheek  reddened  with 
offended  pride.  "  But  it  is  always  that  way  ;  however 
much  I  try,  I  never  can  succeed." 

"  There  is  so  little  justice  in  that  assertion,"  returned 
the  mother,  "  that  I  think  we  had  better,  before  we 
go  any  further,  take  a  short  survey  of  your  efforts  to 
please.  We  will  begin  with  last  Monday  :  pray,  what 
was  the  reason  of  Mr.  Morton's  going  to  your  papa 
and  declining  tc  be  your  music  teacher  any  longer  ?" 

"  Because  I  told  him  I  would  not  practise  any  longei 
than  I  liked  for  any  teacher  whatever." 

"  And  was  this  trying  to  please  your  father  and  me, 
Augusta  ?"  asked  the  mother,  gently.  "  You  know  the 
high  value  we  set  upon  Mr.  Morton,  both  as  a  man 
and  as  a  teacher,  and  must,  therefore,  be  sure  that  it 
gave  us  great  pain  to  find  that  you  had  deprived  your 
self  of  the  advantage  of  his  instructions." 

"  But  he  had  no  business  to  say  that  he  insisted  on 
my  practising.  What  business,  pray,  had  he  to  insist 
upon  any  thing  from  me  ?  He  ought  to  remember  that 

1  am  not  a  child  now." 

"  As  your  teacher,  he  had  a  right  to  insist  upon  your 
performing  the  duties  connected  with  the  branch  he 
taught." 

"  If  my  papa  had  insisted,  it  might  have  had  some 
effect ;  but  for  him,  a  mere  music  teacher,  to  insi? 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  7 

upon  my  doing  any  thing  that  I  did  not  like,  was 
rather  too  bad  !  He  forgot,  I  suppose,  at  the  time,  that 
he  was  speaking  to  the  only  child  of  Mr.  Monkton, 
of  Monkton  Park." 

"  So  far  from  that,  Augusta,  you  see  he  left  you 
immediately,  and  came  straight  to  Mr.  Monkton,  of 
Monkton  Park,  and  declined  in  a  steady,  though 
respectful  manner,  any  further  attendance  on  his 
daughter." 

"  And  I  dare  say  he  has,  by  this  time,  heartily  re- 
pented, and  would  be  very  glad  to  be  asked  to  return ; 
and  as  I  acknowledge  I  have  sometimes  felt  rather 
sorry  for  having  offended  him,  I  intend  to  tell  papa 
that  he  may  send  for  him  to  come  back." 

"  That  would  do  no  good,  Augusta,  for  it  is  not  an 
hour  since  your  papa  told  me  that  he  had  called  upon 
Mr.  Morton  this  morning,  and  had  endeavoured  to 
prevail  upon  him  to  renew  his  lessons,  but  he  said  he 
could  only  be  induced  to  do  so  by  your  begging  his 
pardon,  and  promising  to  behave  more  respectfully  in 
future." 

"  I  beg  his  pardon  !"  repeated  Augusta,  haughtily  ; 
"  he  surely  cannot  imagine  that  I  would  condescend  to 
beg  his  pardon  !  I  might  do  such  a  thing  of  you  or 
papa,  but  it  is  not  very  likely  I  would  do  it  of  a  mere 
teacher." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  recollect,  my  dear  Augusta,  that 
when  you  are  placed  under  the  care  of  a  teacher,  that 
for  th-2  time  L<j;r.g,  that  teacher  is  invested  with  parental 
authority,  and  has  as  great  a  claim  on  your  duty  and 
obedience  as  your  parents  themselves." 

'^  Well,  mamma,  then  suppose  I  were  to  write  a 
note  tc  Mr.  Morton,  and  beg  him  to  forgive  my  dis- 


8  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

respectful  behaviour,  and  renew  his  instruction,  would 
you  then  acknowledge  that  I  had  tried  to  please  papa 
and  you?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  girl ;  and  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
you  will  thus  secure  to  yourself  lasting  pleasure  in  the 
happiness  you  will  bestow  upon  your  father  and 
myself  by  this  effort  to  overcome  a  prevailing  fault." 

"  And  now,  I  hope,"  said  Augusta,  "  you  will 
acknowledge,  mamma,  that  I  have  tried  to  oblige  you. 
You  surely  have  no  more  sins  to  bring  against  me,  of 
this  week's  commission  at  least." 

Her  mother  smiled,  but  did  not  say  any  thing. 
"  Why  do  you  smile,  mamma  ?     I  wish  you  would 
not  smile.     It  seems  to  imply  that  I  have  forgotten 
something,  and  I  am  siu-e  I  do  not  think  I  have.     Do 
you  know  any  thing  ?" 

"  What  was  that  affair  between  Dawson  and  you 
the  other  day?"  asked  Mrs.  Monkton. 
Augusta  coloured,  but  remained  silent. 
"  Have  you  nothing  to  blame  yourself  for  in  regard 
X>  that  affair,  Augusta  ?"  continued  her  mother. 

"  I  believe  I  did  get  a  little  out  of  humour,"  replied 
Augusta,  her  cheek  still  continuing  to  be  tinged  with  a 
higher  colour  than  was  natural  to  it ;  "  but  then  it  was 
not  till  she  had  provoked  rne  exceedingly." 

"  Suppose  you  detail  the  particulars  of  her  offence, 
that  we  may  now  consider  the  matter  coolly." 

"  Well,  you  know,  mamma,  I  was  very  anxious  to 
have  my  hair  put  up  as  prettily  as  possible  the  other 
day,  when  Lady  Clayton  was  coming  to  dine  with  us, 
and  Dawson  had  put  it  up  three  or  four  times  so  hor- 
ribly that  I  had  to  take  it  down  again  ;  and  at  last  I  got 
vexed,  and  told  her  she  did  not  deserve  to  be  allowed 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  9 

to  put  it  up ;  when,  do  you  know,  she  had  the  imper- 
tinence to  say,  she  did  not  consider  it  any  favour  to  do 
any  thing  for  me<  I  told  her  it  was  not  only  a  favour 
but  an  honour,  and  that  if  she  did  not  behave  herself 
properly,  I  would  throw  my  comb  at  her  head.  She 
said  she  would  like  to  see  me  do  it ;  and  that  provoked 
me  so  much  that  I  did  throw  it,  and  one  of  the  teeth 
stuck  in  her  temple,  and  the  blood  spouted  out  so  that 
I  was  exceedingly  frightened,  for  I  was  afraid  she  would 
bleed  to  death.  I  was  so  distressed  that  I  actually 
cried,  and  begged  her  to  forgive  me ;  and  at  last  she 
did  forgive  me,  and  promised  not  to  tell  any  body  how 
the  thing  happened." 

Augusta  ceased  speaking,  and  her  mother  heaved  a 
deep  sigh. 

"  Do  not  sigh,  my  dear  mamma,"  cried  Augusta, 
throwing  her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck  as  she 
spoke ;  "  I  never  hurt  a  servant  before,  and  indeed 
it  shall  be  the  last  time,  for  I  have  felt  ashamed  whent 
ever  I  have  thought  of  it  since." 

"  But  it  is  far  from  being  the  first  time  you  have  hurt 
the  feelings  of  a  servant  by  your  haughty  and  imperious 
behaviour,  Augusta,  and  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  long 
before  you  learn  to  know  that  even  bodily  wounds  are 
more  easily  forgiven  than  those  of  the  spirit ;  and  that 
your  overbearing  disposition  often  converts  those  who 
are  disposed  to  be  warm  friends  into  bitter  enemies." 

"  It  is  not  likely  I  shall  ever  be  much  in  need  of  the 
friendship  of  servants,"  replied  Augusta,  haughtily. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  say  what  we  may  not  need  in 
the  course  of  our  lives,"  replied  her  mother.  "  Many 
who  were  much  higher  than  you,  have  been  indebted 
for  lives,  fortunes,  and  every  blessing  of  life,  to  the 


10  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

affection  of  a  servant.  But,  unhappily,  servants  are 
not  the  only  friends  whom  your  behaviour  has  alien- 
ated from  you." 

"  You  refer  to  Cecilia  Clayton ;  but  she  vexed  me 
by  threatening  that,  if  I  would  not  walk  with  her  yes- 
terday, she  would  never  call  for  me  again,  and  I  had 
no  notion  of  being  threatened  by  her  ;  and  so  I  told  her 
that  I  did  not  care  whether  I  ever  had  the  honour  of 
seeing  her  again.  But  who  would  have  thought  of  her 
taking  me  in  earnest.  She  might  have  been  sure  1 
only  said  so  because  I  was  vexed." 

"  And  your  wish  was  to  vex  her  in  return." 
"  Yes,  to  be  sure  it  was ;  but  it  was  very  foolish  in 
her  to  be  vexed  at  what  I  said.     She  might  ha\e  been 
sure  it  was  not  true." 

"  And  was  there  no  folly  on  your  side,  Augusta  ?" 
"  Perhaps  there  was  ;  but  indeed  I  do  intend  to  try 
to  cure  myself  of  my  faults,  but  you  know  I  cannot  do 
*t  all  at  once." 

"  You  are,  indeed,  far  from  doing  that,  when  we  have 
already  enumerated  three  serious  transgressions  in  one 
week,  setting  aside  the  numerous  minor  circumstances 
which  have  tended  to  offend  and  mortify  those  around 
you.  You,  however,  my  dear  child,  I  am  well  aware, 
are  less  to  blame  for  these  faults  than  your  papa  and 
myself.  You  have  received  your  education  in  a  school 
of  almost  criminal  indulgence,  and  were  it  not  that  I 
believe  your  dispositions  are  naturally  good,  and  your 
affections  warm,  I  should  tremble  for  the  result  to 
your  future  character.  But  you  are  now  old  enough 
to  be  able  to  judge  of  the  necessity  for  self-exertion, 
and  I  hope  that  to  feel  the  duty  and  perform  it  will 
soon  be  one  and  the  same  thing  with  you,  Augusta." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.'  11 

"  0  yes,  mamma ;  you  may  be  assured  it  will.  I 
am  now  nearly  fifteen,  and  you  will  see  how  good  I 
shall  soon  become ;  but,  by-the-by,  this  puts  me  in 
mind  of  the  favour  J  came  to  ask,  and  which,  I  hope, 
you  will  grant,  dear  mamma." 

"  And  take  your  reformation  on  trust,  I  suppose," 
said  Mrs.  Monkton,  fixing  her  eyes  with  fondness  on 
the  beautiful  face  of  her  daughter,  which  the  excite- 
ment of  the  conversation  that  had  just  passed  had 
caused  to  glow  with  more  than  its  usual  brilliancy. 

"  Yes,  dear  mamma,  give  me  credit,  and  say  you 
will  grant  my  request." 

"  Well,  let  me  hear  what  it  is,  and  I  believe  you 
will  not  have  much  occasion  to  fear  a  refusal." 

"  Then,  it  is  this,"  replied  Augusta,  with  as  much 
confidence  in  the  success  of  her  petition  as  if  conscious 
that  her  mother's  indulgence  was  strengthened  by  her 
own  deserts.  "  You  know  the  first  of  May,  which  is 
my  birth-day,  will  be  here  in  about  six  weeks,  [her 
mother  heaved  a  deep  sigh,]  and  what  I  want  is,  that 
you  will  let  me  make  a  grand  gala  at  Monkton  Park 
on  the  occasion.  Dear  me,  mamma,"  continued  Au- 
gusta, looking  with  an  expression  of  mortified  pride  at 
her  mother,  whose  lips  began  to  quiver,  while  her 
cheeks  became  perfectly  blanched,  "  it  is  very  strange 
that  while  other  mothers  always  consider  their  chil- 
dren's birth-days  a  time  for  rejoicing,  you  always  make 
mine  a  period  of  gloom  and  melancholy." 

"  You  know,  my  dear  Augusta,"  replied  the  mother, 
and  the  large  tears  traced  each  other  down  her  cheeks 
as  she  spoke,  "  you  know,  my  love,  the  same  hour 
that  gave  you  birth  made  me  the  mother  of  another 


12  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

daughter,  and  that  the  first  anniversary  of  your  birth 
deprived  me  of  one-half  of  my  treasure." 

"  I  know  that,  mamma.  But  surely  the  loss  of  one 
child  does  not  need  to  make  you  insensible  to  all  the 
claims  of  the  remaining  one.  You  surely  need  not  be 
unkind  to  me,  because  my  sister  is  not  living." 

"  Have  you  ever  known  any  thing  like  unkindness 
in  your  life,  Augusta  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Monkton,  in  a  tone 
of  reproach. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  unkind  for  you  to  make  any  dif- 
ficulty about  celebrating  my  birth-day,"  added  the 
daughter,  "  but  it  always  has  been  made  a  day  of  gloom 
and  melancholy,  and  plainly  proves  that  the  daughter 
you  have  is  of  little  consequence  in  comparison  to  the 
one  you  lost." 

"  The  reproach  is  an  ungrateful  one,  Augusta ;  but 
it  is  one  that  you  shall  no  longer  pain  me  with.  You 
shall  spend  your  birth-day  as  you  desire,  and  I  hope 
by  the  time  the  next  comes  round  you  will  have  learned 
to  be  more  sensible  of  the  blessings  by  which  you  are 
surrounded." 

"  But  you  will  go  with  us  to  Monkton  Park, 
mamma ;  you  will  surely  not  think  of  remaining  in 
town  while  we  go  there." 

"  You  know  I  have  never  been  at  the  park  since 
your  sister's  death,  and  I  can  scarcely  bear  the  thought 
of  seeing  it  again ;  but  to  prove  my  thankfulness  for 
the  treasure  that  is  still  spared  me,  I  will  go,  and  en- 
deavour to  rejoice  in  the  midst  of  the  scene  of  all  my 
eorrow." 

".O,  thank  you,  mamma,"  cried  Augusta,  delighted 
•  t  having  accomplished  her  object  without  allowing 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  13 

herself  to  consider  that  it  was  purchased  at  the  price 
of  great  pain  to  her  over-indulgent  parent.  But  Augusta 
was  a  spoiled  child,  and  had  been  so  accustomed  to 
have  all  her  own  wishes  gratified,  or  even  anticipated, 
that  it  had  scarcely  ever  entered  her  head  that  there  could 
be  any  propriety  in  her  yielding  to  those  of  others. 
Just  at  the  moment  that  she  was  rejoicing  over  her 
mother's  compliance,  a  servant  entered  the  room  to  say 
that  the  horses  were  at  the  door,  and  her  father  waited 
for  her  to  go  and  ride  with  him ;  and  she  flew  off' 
without  bestowing  a  regret  for  the  pain  she  had  given, 
or  feeling  a  sensation  of  gratitude  for  the  indulgence 
that  had  been  awarded  to  her. 


14  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS, 


CHAPTER  II. 

,-*fyS'  .••*  *     .•-•  ,5t    *"-f  •'•"  .*>•  :V'.V '->•-»;  -         •'-  --  ••  •     ""'  .  J- '  • 

DELIGHTED  with  the  result  of  her  application  to  hei 
mother,  Augusta  joined  her  father,  in  the  full  con- 
sciousness that  all  the  difficulties  of  her  scheme  were 
removed ;  for  she  well  knew  that  her  power  over  him 
was  unbounded.  With  her  mother,  occasionally,  a 
faint  effort  of  judgment  would  struggle  for  a  time,  at 
least,  against  that  excessive  indulgence  to  which  her 
maternal  tenderness  but  too  much  inclined  her  to  yield  ; 
but  with  her  father,  though  in  all  other  respects  a  sen- 
sible and  judicious  man,  no  such  effort  of  reason  ever 
intervened  between  her  wishes  and  his  compliance. 
To  hear  her  express  a  wish,  and  to  use  his  utmost 
efforts  to  gratify  it,  were  with  him  one  and  the  same 
thing ;  and  even  when,  by  her  overbearing  temper,  she 
had  distressed  him  by  offending  some  of  her  teachers  or 
friends,  the  words,  "  Pear  papa,  forgive  me,"  accom- 
panied by  a  smile  or  a  caress,  wiped  all  in  an  instant 
from  his  remembrance,  and  the  way  was  cleared  for 
her  to  offend  again,  and  she  knew  she  could  do  it  as 
often  as  she  chose  with  equal  impunity. 

Had  Augusta's  education  fallen  into  any  other  hands 
than  those  of  an  almost  idolizing  father  and  mother, 
she  might  easily  have  been  made  as  amiable  in  her 
manners  as  she  was  lovely  in  her  person ;  but  they 
unfortunately  had  not  resolution  to  commit  her  to  the 
care  even  of  a  governess,  who  might  have  regulated  her 
manners  and  superintended  her  studies,  without  entirely 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  15 

depriving  them  of  her  society.  Under  such  circum- 
stances, a  judicious  woman  might  have  had  great 
influence  in  awakening  the  finer  feelings  of  her  nature, 
by  rousing  her  to  a  consciousness  of  the  debt  of  grati- 
tude which  she  owed  to  such  parents,  and  to  the 
generous  emotions  arising  from  the  pleasure  of  giving, 
as  well  as  receiving.  But  to  such  pleasures  Augusta 
was  altogether  a  stranger.  Accustomed  to  have  her 
wishes  not  only  gratified  but  anticipated,  and  in  the 
habit  of  seeing  every  thing  give  way  to  what  was  con- 
ceived to  be  conducive  to  her  good  or  her  enjoyment, 
it  never  once  entered  her  mind  that  any  thing  was 
required  from  her  in  return,  and  no  effort,  however 
great,  could  be  made  to  please  her  that  she  did  not 
imagine  was  fully  repaid  by  a  mere  acceptance ;  or,  at 
most,  a  show  of  compliance  that  cost  her  no  self-denial 
to  make.  Had  she  mixed  more  with  companions 
beyond  the  circle  of  her  own  family,  she  might,  per- 
haps, have  learned  to  form  a  better  estimate  of  herself; 
but  an  extreme  depression  of  spirits,  and  a  very  delicate 
state  of  health,  had  caused  Mrs.  Monkton  to  retire  so 
entirely  from  the  world  that  though  they  had,  from  the 
time  that  Augusta  was  a  year  old,  resided  in  a  town 
of  considerable  size  and  importance,  their  habits  of 
life  had  been  nearly  as  secluded  as  though  they  had 
been  shut  up  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  wild  and 
romantic  country  in  which  Mr.  Monkton's  patrimonial 
estate  was  placed.  Servants,  therefore,  who,  anxious 
to  gain  favour  with  their  master  and  mistress,  were 
always  ready  to  conceal,  or  even  to  encourage  her 
prevailing  faults,  were  Augusta's  principal  companions ; 
or,  if  perchance  she  mingled  with  others,  more  on  an 
equality  with  herself,  she  seldom  failed  to  offend  or 


16  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

mortify  them,  by  the  air  of  superiority  which  she 
assumed,  or  the  want  of  accommodation  that  she 
exhibited.  Still,  however,  as  has  already  been  said, 
her  natural  dispositions  were  good,  and,  under  judi- 
cious discipline,  Augusta  Monkton  would  have  been  a 
noble  and  generous  girl ;  but  few  are  the  minds  that 
have  power  to  withstand  the  too  tempting  lessons 
which  are  to  be  learned  in  the  schools  of  fondness, 
flattery,  and  indulgence. 

"  I  hope  you  are  disposed  for  a  long  ride  to-day, 
Augusta,"  said  the  fond  father,  as  he  placed  his 
daughter  on  her  spirited  and  beautifully  caparisoned 
palfrey ;  "  for  I  feel  that  I  require  some  exercise." 

"  O,  yes,  papa,  I  will  ride  with  you  as  far  as  you 
choose  ;  the  farther  the  better,  for  I  have  a  great  deal 
to  talk  to  you  about." 

"  Indeed  !  what  is  the  subject  ?" 

*'  Wait  till  we  are  out  of  the  noise  of  the  carts  and 
carriages,  and  I  will  tell  you.  But  I  do  not  like,  after 
I  have  been  talking  of  what  interests  me,  to  find  that 
you  have  not  heard  half  that  I  have  said ;"  and  as  she 
spoke  she  gave  her  steed  the  hint,  and  away  they  can- 
tered, to  the  no  small  admiration  of  all  whom  they 
passed. 

"  Now,"  said  Augusta,  drawing  in  her  horse  to  a 
gentler  pace,  as  on  reaching  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
they  entered  a  shady  lane,  "  now,  papa,  I  can  talk  and 
you  can  hear ;  so  listen.  Mamma  has  consented  to  let 
me  have  a  gala  at  Monkton  Park,  on  my  birth-day ; 
and  you  and  I  must  plan  how  it  is  to  be  conducted." 

"  My  consent  is  not  to  be  asked  then  upon  the 
subject  ?" 

"  O,  no !  I  know  beforehand  that  you  will  like  it  as 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  17 

well  as  I  shall  do  myself ;  and  I  know  too,  that  you 
will  be  as  anxious  as  I  am  to  have  it  the  handsomest 
thing  that  has  been  known  in  the  neighbourhood  for 
many  years ;  so  there  is  no  need  to  waste  time  in 
asking  consent.  Let  us  set  to  work,  therefore,  to  lay 
our  plans." 

"  Well,  what  sort  of  thing  do  you  want  to  have  it  ?" 
said  the  father,  smiling  with  delight  at  his  daughter's 
confidence  in  his  indulgent  fondness  ;  "  is  it  to  be  a 
child's  party,  or  how  far  do  your  wishes  extend  ?" 

"  Not  a  child's  party,  certainly,"  replied  Augusta, 
drawing  herself  up  on  her  saddle  with  an  air  of  con- 
sequence, which  she  well  knew  how  to  assume  ;  "  but 
for  young  people  about  my  own  age." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  from  that  day  you  intend  to  cease 
to  be  a  child  ;  and  will  put  away  all  childish  things." 

"  To  be  sure  I  do.  I  think,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  I 
may  fairly  begin  to  lay  claim  to  a  little  more  conside- 
ration." 

"  Undoubtedly  ;  but  yet  I  am  afraid,  that  even  at 
the  mature  age  of  fifteen,  you  may  find  it  rather  an 
arduous  task  to  entertain  so  large  a  party ;  especially, 
when  all  of  whom  it  is  composed  may  not  be  so  ma- 
ture and  wise  as  yourself." 

"  0,  leave  me  to  manage  that,  papa.  The  thing 
shall  be  conducted  without  any  formality  or  restraint. 
I  will  not  pretend  to  amuse  any  one,  but  leave  all  at 
liberty  to  amuse  themselves  ;  only  putting  the  means 
for  doing  so  within  their  reach.  In  the  first  place,  I 
will  have  tables  with  refreshments,  set  out  on  the  lawn. 
Then,  there  shall  be  the  apparatus  for  every  kind  of 
game  that  can  be  thought  of  dispersed  throughout  the 
park  and  the  woods  ;  with  bands  of  music  stationed  at 


18  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

various  points,  where  they  will  not  interfere  with  one 
another.  I  will  have  boats  and  fishing-tackle  for  the 
lake " 

Her  father  started. 

"  Remember,  Augusta,  your  mamma  will  never  con- 
sent to  your  going  near  the  lake." 

"It  is  hardly  probable  I  shall  have  any  wish  to 
do  so ;  but  if  I  should,  I  suppose  I  could  conquer  her 
repugnance  to  that,  as  well  as  I  have  done  her  unwill- 
ingness to  go  herself  to  Monk  ton  Park." 

"  No,  Augusta ;  that  is  a  point  which  must  be 
clearly  understood  between  us,  before  the  matter  goes 
any  farther,"  said  the  father ;  and  as  he  spoke,  he 
drew  his  horse  up  into  a  walk,  and  looked  at  his  daugh- 
ter, with  an  expression  of  determination  that  she  had 
never  before  seen  him  assume.  "  I  will  not  have  your 
mamma's  spirits  harassed  and  agitated,  or  her  fears 
excited  about  that  lake.  You  must  promise  me  that 
you  will  not  do  any  thing  whatever  to  call  her  atten- 
tion to  it,  either  in  your  own  person  or  by  any  other 
means,  or  the  whole  affair  must  be  given  up  at  once. 
Are  you  willing  to  promise  this  ?  Are  you  disposed 
to  pay  this  price  for  your  entertainment  ?" 

"  I  should  care  very  little  for  an  entertainment  of 
which  I  was  not  the  entire  mistress,"  said  Augusta, 
coldly. 

"  In  every  other  respect  you  may  be  so,  but  in  this 
one  particular  I  am  not  to  be  moved.  The  promise 
must  be  given." 

"  You  might,  I  should  suppose,  have  left  it  to  my 
own  discretion,  without  insisting  upon  my  binding 
myself  down  by  a  promise,  like  a  child  that  was  not 
to  be  trusted  out  of  leading-strings." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  19 

"  In  any  other  case  but  this  I  might  have  done  so, 
but  in  this  it  is  impossible.  Your  mother's  health  and 
spirits  are  too  closely  connected  with  the  subject  to 
admit  of  any  compromise.  You  must,  therefore, 
accept  your  entertainment  on  my  terms,  or  not  have  it 
at  all." 

"  I  would  rather  give  it  up  altogether,  than  not  have 
it  exactly  as  I  wish,"  returned  Augusta,  sullenly. 

"  Very  well,  then,  let  the  thing  be  given  up,"  replied 
her  father,  with  a  degree  of  cool  steadiness  that  made 
Augusta  turn  her  eyes  upon  him  with  a  look  of  ex- 
treme astonishment.  She  could,  however,  detect  no 
relaxation  of  muscle ;  and  the  rest  of  the  ride  was 
pursued  in  profound  silence  on  both  sides. 


20  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  total  disregard  which  Augusta  had  shown  for 
her  mother's  feelings,  had  excited  a  stronger  degree  of 
displeasure  towards  her  in  the  mind  of  her  father  than 
he  had  ever  before  felt,  and  had  done  more  towards 
opening  his  eyes  to  the  very  blamable  degree  of  indul- 
gence which  she  had,  during  the  whole  course  of  her  life, 
been  in  the  habit  of  meeting  with,  from  both  her  mother 
and  himself,  than  any  thing  that  had  ever  before 
occurred.  For  the  first  time,  he  began  to  see  that  the 
habit  of  having  every  wish  gratified,  at  whatever  expense 
to  others,  instead  of  calling  forth  tenderness,  and  a 
wish  to  oblige  in  return,  had  only  been  the  means  of 
fostering  a  selfish  and  overbearing  disposition,  and  an 
impatience  under  every  species  of  opposition,  which 
was  rapidly  undermining  all  the  better  feelings  of  her 
nature.  And,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  extremes 
of  all  kinds,  his  mind,  when  once  roused  to  a  sense  of 
his  error,  was  disposed  to  think  with  even  too  great 
severity  of  his  daughter's  offence ;  for  he  did  not  take 
sufficiently  into  consideration,  that  though  he  himself 
knew  how  closely  the  subject  on  which  they  had  dis- 
agreed was  connected  with  all  the  tenderest  and  most 
agonizing  feelings  of  his  wife's  heart,  to  Augusta  the 
circumstance  was  almost  wholly  unknown ;  and  that 
he  was  blaming  her  for  a  want  of  sympathy  on  a  sub- 
ject with  which  she  had  never  been  made  acquainted. 
She  knew  that  another  little  girl  had  been  born  at  the 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  21 

same  time  with  herself;  and  that  her  twin  sister  had 
died  on  the  first  anniversary  of  their  birth-day  ;  but  the 
particulars  of  the  event  were  altogether  unknown  to 
her;  for  all  reference  to  the  subject  had  ever  been 
studiously  avoided  in  the  family,  in  consideration  of 
her  mother's  feelings  ;  whose  spirits,  even  after  the 
lapse  of  so  many  years,  had  never  recovered  from  the 
shock  that  they  had  then  experienced.  So  far,  there- 
fore, as  her  mother  was  concerned,  Augusta  was  less 
to  blame  than  her  father  considered  her ;  and  to  one  to 
whom  all  opposition  to  her  own  wishes  was  invariably 
considered  as  unreasonable,  such  a  foundation  for  a 
charge  of  injustice  could  not  fail  to  give  strength  and 
permanence  to  all  her  most  overbearing  and  wayward 
passions.  Day  after  day,  therefore,  passed  over  without 
her  making  the  slightest  effort  to  conciliate  her  father, 
or  remove  the  painful  impression  which  had  been  left 
on  his  mind ;  though  the  coldness  of  his  manner  plainly 
told  how  strong  a  sense  he  still  retained  of  her  selfish- 
ness and  obstinacy. 

"  I  declare,"  she  would  exclaim,  "  it  is  a  great 
shame  that  papa  cannot  find  in  his  heart  to  let  me  have 
any  amusement  without  binding  me  down  to  promises 
and  restrictions  that  would  destroy  all  the  pleasure. 
Nobody  would  imagine  that  I  am  an  only  child  by  the 
manner  in  which  I  am  kept  shut  out  from  the  world, 
just  merely  because  mamma  chooses  to  give  way  to 
nervousness  and  low  spirits.  They  talk  of  my  learn- 
ing to  give  up  my  inclinations  to  the  feelings  of  others ; 
but  I  think  mamma  had  better  set  me  the  example,  and 
begin  by  accommodating  herself  to  what  it  is  natural  a 
young  girl  like  myself  would  look  for  and  expect. 
But  it  is  always  the  way  with  those  who  are  least 


22  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

•  inclined  to  give  way  to  others  ;  they  are  sure  to  expect 
the  greatest  sacrifices  to  be  made  to  themselves." 

Augusta  was,  indeed,  right  in  saying  that  this  was 
always  the  case  with  such  people  ;  but  she  did  not 
consider  how  applicable  the  charge  was  to  herself. 
Accustomed,  from  her  earliest  infancy,  to  be  almost 
the  god  of  her  parents'  idolatry,  and  never  having 
been  called  upon  to  practise  the  art  of  yielding,  the 
idea  of  her  being  forced  to  do  so  immediately  assumed 
the  appearance  of  injustice  and  tyranny,  and  she 
imagined  that  she  only  had  a  right  to  complain,  without 
recollecting  that  the  sacrifices  had  hitherto  been  all  on 
the  other  side.  But  so  it  ever  is  with  arbitrary  people ; 
they  demand  every -species  of  liberality  from  others, 
but  never  think  of  practising  it  themselves. 

Time  went  on,  and  a  struggle  for  power  between 
father  and  daughter  continued  with  little  abatement ; 
for  whilst  Augusta  found  it  impossible  to  convince 
herself  that  her  father  would  not  ultimately  yield  to 
all  her  wishes,  Mr.  Monkton  had,  on  his  part,  been  so 
strongly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  selfishness  and 
ingratitude  which  his  daughter  had  evinced  towards 
her  amiable,  affectionate,  and  but  too  sensitive  parent ; 
that  he  was  roused  to  a  determination  against  the 
growing  evil  to  struggle,  which  no  other  circumstance 
could  have  produced.  Had  the  same  dispositions 
been  exhibited  on  an  occasion  when  he  only  was 
concerned,  his  partiality  would  have  discovered  a 
hundred  excuses  for  the  fault.  But  .though  less  fool- 
ishly fond,  his  affection  for  his  wife  was  not  less 
tender  than  that  for  his  daughter,  and  on  one  point — the 
subject  to  which  his  quarrel  with  Augusta  had  a  refer- 
ence— his  warmest  sympathies  had  ever  been  awake ; 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  23 

and  a  point  of  his  character  was  thus  brought  to  light 
of  which  both  wife  and  daughter  had  hitherto  been 
wholly  unconscious.  The  one  pleaded,  and  the  other 
frowned,  in  the  hope  of  softening  or  overcoming  his 
determination,  but  in  vain ;  his  mind  was  made  up, 
and  the  efforts  of  each  were  equally  unavailing. 

Things  were  in  this  state,  when  Mr.  Monkton  one 
day  entered  the  room  where  his  daughter  was  sitting, 
and  going  up  to  her,  said,  in  a  grave  though  less 
distant  manner  than  he  had  for  some  time  spoken  to 
her,  "  Augusta,  your  mother  and  I  have  come  to  a 
determination,  that  will,  I  dare  say,  appear  extraordi- 
nary, and  perhaps  disagreeable  to  you ;  but  if  so,  it  is 
my  intention  to  give  you  an  alternative  to  choose 
from." 

Augusta  fixed  her  eyes  inquiringly  on  his  face,  but 
did  not  speak. 

"  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  a  gentleman  in 
America,"  he  continued,  "  informing  me  of  the  death 
of  a  friend  to  whom  I  have  been  long  and  strongly 
attached,  and  who  has  left  to  me  the  guardianship  of 
his  children,  a  son  and  a  daughter.  The  son  is  some- 
where between  fifteen  and  seventeen  years  of  age,  but 
the  little  girl  is  not  more  than  six,  and  as  it  would  be 
a  difficult  thing  to  have  her  brought  over  with  so  much 
care  and  tenderness  as  one  so  young,  and  that  has 
been  brought  up  with  so  much  tenderness,  would  re- 
quire, we  have  determined  to  go  over  ourselves  and  bring 
them.  I  am  especially  induced  to  do  this,  from  the 
hope  that  the  voyage  and  entire  change  of  scene  will 
be  of  service  ta  your  dear  mother's  health  and  spirits  ; 
and  as  she  has  agreed  to  it  very  cordially  herself,  I 
have  no  doubt  of  her  deriving  essential  benefit  from 
the  expedition.  Whether  you  will  choose  to  join  us 


24  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

in  it,  or  not,  rests  entirely  with  yourself,  and  I  will 
allow  you  two  days  to  make  up  your  mind  on  the 
subject." 

So  saying,  he  was  about  to  turn  from  her,  but  his 
daughter,  stopping  him,  exclaimed,  "There  is  no  need 
papa,  for  you  to  give  me  any  more  time  than  I  have 
already  had.  I  can  say  at  once,  what  I  have  said  a 
hundred  times  before,  that  nothing  in  the  world  would 
tempt  me  to  cross  the  Atlantic." 

"Then  if  you  prefer  remaining  in  England,  and 
allowing  your  mother  to  undertake  such  a  voyage 
without  the  attention  and  kindness  of  her  only  child,  I 
shall  place  you  at  a  boarding-school  during  our  absence ; 
and  I  must  acknowledge  that,  with  me  at  least,  the 
pain  of  separation  will  be  greatly  alleviated  by  the 
hope  that,  by  the  time  of  our  return,  you  will  have 
learned  the  value  of  the  many  blessings  with  which 
you  have  hitherto  been  surrounded,  and  especially  the 
inestimable  value  of  a  tender  mother's  love.  There 
are  minds,  and  I  am  grieved  to  find  yours  is  one  of 
them,  that  are  incapable  of  forming  an  estimate  of  the 
blessings  they  enjoy,  till  they  have  experienced  the 
pain  of  being  deprived  of  them." 

"  I  may  suffer  from  the  loss  of  my  kind  indulgent 
father's  attentions,"  said  Augusta,  in  a  sneering  and 
contemptuous  tone,  "  but  I  have  no  fear  of  being  de- 
prived of  those  of  my  mother.  She,  at  least,  will  not 
abandon  me  to  strangers,  or  leave  her  only  child  unpro- 
tected, merely  for  the  sake  of  taking  care  of  the  chil- 
dren of  one  she  never  knew." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  at  your  forming  this 
conclusion,  from  your  previous  knowledge  of  your 
mother's  extreme  sensibility  and  tenderness.  In  this 
instance,  however,  you  will  find  that  she  is  roused  to  a 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  25 

degree  of  resolution  which  she  has  never  before  exerted  ; 
and  convinced  that  the  discipline  of  a  severe  school 
is  necessary  for  the  correction  of  errors  that  our  ex- 
treme indulgence  has  but  too  long  encouraged,  she  has 
resolved  to  put  herself  to  the  severest  trial  that  she  can 
possibly  experience,  for  the  good  of  one  for  whom  she 
would  willingly  give  up  life  itself." 

"  She  may  think  all  this,  at  present,"  replied  the 
daughter,  looking  with  a  perfectly  composed  counte- 
nance at  her  father,  who  had  now  become  much  agi- 
tated ;  "  but  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  of  her  putting  her 
intentions  into  execution." 

Mr.  Monkton  turned  from  his  daughter  with  a  vari- 
ety of  mixed  emotions  pressing  upon  his  heart.  He 
was  shocked  at  the  feelings  that  she  displayed,  but 
still  more  so  at  the  shameful  weakness  and  impropriety 
of  the  course  of  conduct  which  he  had  hitherto  main- 
tained towards  her.  She  was  however  still  very  young, 
and  therefore  he  hoped  that  the  line  of  conduct  which 
lie  had  prescribed  for  himself,  and  which  he  trusted  he 
should  be  able  to  prevail  upon  Mrs.  Monkton  to  join 
him  in,  would  not  yet  be  too  late  to  rectify  the  error ; 
though  he  at  the  same  time  sighed  deeply  to  think 
how  much  they  must  all  suffer  before  the  necessary 
remedies  could  have  their  effect.  Mrs.  Monkton, 
whose  disposition  was  all  gentleness  and  tenderness, 
had  long  been  almost  a  martyr  to  her  maternal  affec- 
tion ;  and  her  life  for  the  last  fourteen  years  had  been 
divided  between  mourning  over  the  loss  of  one  child 
and  indulging  and  caressing  the  other.  She  saw,  how- 
ever, as  her  husband  pointed  it  out  to  her,  the  danger 
that  awaited  the  moral  character  of  this  darling;  and 
in  deference  at  once  to  his  opinion,  and  in  compliance 
with  the  dictates  of  her  own  conscience,  whose  still 
C 


26  THK    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

small  voice,  however,  might  not  perhaps  have  been  suf- 
ficiently attended  to,  had  it  not  been  aideu  by  the  re- 
monstrances of  one  whom  she  both  loved  and  respect- 
ed, she  promised  a  steady  adherence  to  the  determina- 
tion which  had  been  announced  to  Augusta,  of  their 
going  to  America  without  her,  in  case  of  her  refusing 
to  accompany  them  ;  and  placing  her  in  a  boarding- 
school  till  their  return.  Augusta's  refusal  was  what 
they  had  both  calculated  upon,  but  though  it  was 
an  exceedingly  painful  idea  to  them  to  think  of  part- 
ing with  her,  even  for  a  few  months,  they  were  both 
convinced  that  it  would  be  of  essential  service  to  her 
future  life.  Having  once  made  up  her  mind  how  to  act, 
Mrs.  Monkton,  with  a  degree  of  resolution  very  differ- 
ent from  her  usual  passiveness,  resolved  to  let  Augusta 
see  at  once  that  it  was  needless  to  hope  that  her  de- 
termination would  give  way  ;  and  therefore,  on  her 
daughter's  hastening  to  her,  to  exclaim  against  what 
she  termed  her  father's  arbitrary  and  unreasonable  be- 
haviour, she  met  her  with  a  mournful,  but  calm  and 
tranquil  countenance. 

"  Well !  mamma,"  cried  Augusta,  with  great  indig- 
nation, "  I  have  something  to  tell  you  that  will  asto- 
nish you  beyond  measure." 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?"  asked  her  mother,  gently. 

"  Do  you  know,  papa  has  just  told  me  that  you  have 
agreed  to  accompany  him  to  America,  and  that  I  must 
either  go  too,  or  be  left  at  boarding-school  whilst  you 
are  away.  He  has  actually  tried  to  convince  me  that 
you  will  really  go  out  of  the  country,  and  leave  me  if  I 
will  not  accompany  you.  But  he  might  have  saved  his 
eloquence,  for  I  know  better  than  to  believe  it." 

"  But  why  should  you  not  believe  it,  Augusta?  your 
papa  is  not  in  the  habit  of  deceiving  you." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  27 

"  Because,  mamma,  I  know  very  well  you  could  not 
find  in  your  heart  to  leave  me  alone  among  strangers 
Me,  whom  you  have  never  lost  sight  of  for  a  single 
day  in  the  last  fourteen  years." 

"  It  will  certainly  be  a  most  painful  trial;  but  my 
judgment  approves  of  its  being  done,  and  my  word  is 
pledged  to  your  father.  You  will  find  therefore,  Au- 
gusta, that  whatever  it  may  cost  me,  the  effort  shall  be 
made." 

"  And  am  I,"  said  Augusta,  "  after  having  been 
watched  over,  all  my  life,  as  if  your  very  existence 
depended  upon  me,  to  be  sent  away  from  my  father's 
house,  and  left  among  strangers  ?" 

"  But  why  should  that  be  the  alternative,  my  dear  ? 
Why  should  you  not  rather  accompany  us  ?" 

"  Never !"  replied  the  haughty  girl,  indignantly  ;  "  I 
would  not  go  upon  the  sea  for  the  universe  ;  and,  in- 
,  deed,  since  I  am  of  so  little  importance  to  my  papa  and 
you,  that  you  can  think  of  withdrawing  your  protec- 
tion from  me,  for  the  sake  of  bestowing  it  upon  an- 
other person's  children,  it  can  hardly  be  expected  that 
I  should  make  any  sacrifices  for  your  sake." 

"  You  speak  at  present  under  the  influence  of  ill 
humour,  Augusta,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton,  gently  ;  "  but  I 
hope,  before  long,  your  better  sense  will  predominate. 
I  shall  leave  you  for  the  present  to  yourself,  and  trust 
your  mind  will  be  in  a  better  state,  when  your  father 
calls  upon  you  for  your  decisive  answer."  So  saying 
she  quitted  the  room,  leaving  her  daughter  almost  pe- 
trified with  astonishment  at  her  mother's  unexampled 
firmness, 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  her  astonishment  at  the  behaviour 
of  her  father  and  mother,  which  was  so  very  different 
from  what  she  had  ever  before  seen  in  them.,  Augusta 
still  clung  to  the  persuasion  that  she  would  conquer  in 
the  end ;  and  consequently  resjolved  to  hold  out  with 
unshaken  resolution.  It  is  true  she  saw  all  the  pre- 
parations going  on  for  the  departure  of  her  parents  by 
the  Liverpool  packet  of  the  8th  of  the  following  month, 
but  then  she  persuaded  herself  that  these  were  merely 
meant  to  deceive,  and  she  only  said  to  herself,  "  They 
shall  see  that  I  am  not  to  be  taken  in."  At  length  her 
father  called  upon  her  for  her  final  answer,  and  it  was  « 
given  with  an  unfaltering  voice  and  unchanging  coun- 
tenance. 

"This  then,  is  your  decision,  Augusta?"  said  he, 
with  an  expression  of  pain,  which  he  endeavoured  in 
vain  to  conceal. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  daughter's  brief  return. 

"  Well,  whatever  may  be  my  real  feelings  on  the 
subject,  I  am  satisfied  I  ought  to  rejoice  at  the  deter- 
mination that  you  have  come  to,  as  the  most  likely 
means  to  secure  your  ultimate  good.  Your  mamma 
and  I  have  determined  upon  leaving  you  with  some 
ladies  in  Liverpool,  who  have  lately  opened  a  boarding- 
school.  We  are  well  acquainted  with  them,  and  have 
the  fullest  confidence  in  their  care,  attention,  and 
capability  to  instruct.  We  shall  by  that  means  too 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  29 

be  able  to  have  you  with  us  till  the  very  moment  of 
our  embarkation,  as  well  as  having  you  on  the  spot 
ready  to  receive  us,  at  the  first  moment  of  our  return. 
We  shall  leave  home  on  the  second  of  next  month, 
that  we  may  have  time  to  see  you  comfortably  settled 
before  our  departure." 

"  Comfortably!"  repeated  Augusta. 

"  Yes,  comfortably,  Augusta.  As  much  so,  I  am 
sure  you  will  be,  as  the  circumstances  will  admit ;  but 
that  the  contrast  from  what  you  have  hitherto  been 
accustomed  to  will  be  immense,  there  can  be  no 
question.  But  it  is  from  that  I  anticipate  your  future 
good.  You  have  hitherto  known  nothing  but  indul- 
gence, and  have  consequently  never  had  any  means 
of  learning  a  lesson  which  all,  whatever  may  be  your 
situation  in  life,  have  frequent  occasion  to  practise.  A 
school  is  a  sort  of  little  world,  and  in  mixing  with  its 
different  members,  you  will  have  to  learn  to  yield  and 
accommodate  yourself  to  others,  which  is  the  only 
way  of  getting  through  life  with  comfort  and  respecta- 
bility. But  I  must  now  tell  you,  Augusta,  that  your 
mother,  with  her  usual  tenderness,  has  prevailed  upon 
me  to  comply  with  your  wishes  with  respect  to  the 
entertainment  that  you  are  desirous  of  giving  on  your 
birth-day ;  and,  as  a  parting  token  of  affection,  to  let 
the  treat  be  given  to  you  without  binding  you  to  any 
disagreeable  restrictions." 

"  Oh,  I  am  delighted !"  exclaimed  Augusta ;  "  then  I 
shall  be  able,  after  all,  to  fulfil  the  promises  that  I  have 
made  to  so  many  of  my  friends.  But  I  am  afraid," 
she  continued,  recollecting  herself,  "  there  will  not  be 
time  to  get  things  ready  now,  for  it  only  wants  ten 
days  to  the  1st  of  May." 

c2 


30  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  I  have,  in  compliance  with  your  mother's  wishes, 
already  made  many  preparations  in  anticipation,  and 
shall  therefore  have  no  difficulty  in  having  every  thing 
in  readiness,  so  that  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
despatch  your  invitations,  and  make  your  own  particu- 
lar arrangements  as  soon  as  you  please." 

Here  they  parted,  and  Augusta  proceeded — not  as 
might  have  been  expected — to  her  mother  to  acknow- 
ledge her  kindness,  but  to  make  preparations  for 
dresses,  invitations,  and  such  things ;  and  in  her  hurry 
and  bustle,  she  endeavoured  to  persuade  herself  that 
she  was  happy  and  delighted.  She  was  sure,  yes, 
she  was  perfectly  certain,  that  her  mother  would  not 
go  after  all.  Even  if  it  came  to  the  very  last  moment 
without  her  resolution  giving  way,  she  should  still  feel 
sure  that  she  would  repent  before  she  got  into  the 
vessel ;  nay,  should  she  even  see  the  packet  set  sail 
with  her  mother  on  board,  she  would  still  feel  certain 
of  her  returning  with  the  pilot.  "  They  will  try  me 
to  the  very  utmost,"  thought  she,  "  but  they  will  give 
way  in  the  end ;  at  least  mamma  will,  I  know,  and  if 
she  be  but  in  the  country,  I  shall  not  care  for  either 
boarding  schools  or  any  thing  else,  for  I  shall  always 
be  able  to  get  my  own  way."  Thus  she  tried  to 
persuade  herself  that  she  was  happy,  but  a  lurking 
something  still  hung  over  her  mind,  and  contradicted 
the  assertion  which  she  so  often  made  to  herself,  that 
she  had  got  every  thing  as  she  wished. 

Though  haughty  and  self-willed,  Augusta  was  far 
from  being  deficient  in  affection,  nor  was  she  naturally 
wanting  in  generous  and  noble  feelings ;  but  the  whole 
course  of  her  education  had  tended  to  fix  her  thoughts 
entirely  on  self,  and  led  her  to  imagine  that  the  only 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  31 

duty  she  had  to  perform,  was  that  of  receiving  the 
homage  of  those  around  her.  Her  affection  for  her 
parents  had  never  been  called  forth  by  her  having  to 
make  any  efforts  on  their  account;  and  therefore, 
though  she  loved  them  sincerely,  she  was  unconscious 
of  the  strength  of  that  affection,  for  she  had  never  in 
her  life  had  occasion  to  practise  a  single  act  of  self- 
denial  for  their  sake.  What  wonder  then,  that  a 
sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of  filial  affection  was  now  an 
idea  totally  remote  from  her  mind,  and  that  though 
she  expected  a  sacrifice  to  be  made,  she  had  no  con- 
ception of  the  propriety  of  her  making  it.  Busily 
employed  in  her  own  immediate  interests  and  occupa- 
tions, she  had  no  time  to  consider  what  were  her 
mother's  feelings,  or  in  what  state  of  mind  she  viewed 
all  the  preparations  for  festivity  on  the  very  eve  of  her 
separation  from  her  only  and  almost  idolized  child. 
Augusta  observed  not  that  the  sweet  but  mournful 
countenance  had  become  more  than  usually  pensive  ; 
that  the  cheek,  which  had  always  been  pale,  wore  now 
a  still  more  pallid  hue ;  and  that  her  large  and  melting 
eyes  bespoke  the  languor  of  sleeplessness,  in  addition 
to  the  mournfulness  of  an  inward  and  corroding  sorrow. 
All  this  passed  before  Augusta's  eyes  unobserved,  or 
if  noticed  for  a  moment,  it  only  served  as  a  confirma- 
tion of  her  belief  that  her  mother  would  not  have 
resolution  to  act  up  to  the  determination  which  she  had 
made?  so  that  the  sun  rose  on  the  1st  of  May,  and 
found  Augusta  in  exactly  the  same  frame  of  mind  in 
which  she  was,  when  the  subject  of  her  father  and 
mother's  visiting  America  had  been  first  suggested  to 
her. 


32  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  a  beautiful  and  commanding  eminence,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Borrowdale,  that  far-famed  scene  of 
romantic  beauty,  stood  the  venerable  mansion  of 
Monkton  Park ;  whose  gray  turrets,  arched  gateways, 
and  moss-grown  enclosures,  bespoke  it  the  residence 
of  both  an  ancient  and  a  wealthy  family.  Having  been 
built  at  the  time  when  the  disturbances  between  Eng- 
land and  Scotland  rendered  strong  defences  necessary, 
it  had  not  been  erected  without  proper  regard  for  such 
securities  ;  but  yet  a  considerable  degree  of  attention 
had,  at  the  same  time,  been  paid  to  preserving  the  pic- 
turesque beauty  of  the  scenery  unobstructed.  The 
eminence,  on  which  the  mansion  was  placed,  after 
extending  for  a  considerable  distance  as  a  beautiful 
park,  over  which  the  deer  ranged  in  undisturbed 
security,  and  where  the  knotty  oak  and  venerable  elm 
had  long  stood  the  ancient  guardians  of  the  domain, 
terminated,  on  the  one  side,  in  a  rugged  and  pre- 
cipitous cliff;  and,  on  the  other,  was  bounded  by  a 
stream  of  water,  which,  after  winding  almost  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  flowed  in  a  deep  and  rapid  torrent. 
When  this  stream  first  became  visible  from  the  western 
wing  of  the  mansion,  it  appeared  in  the  form  of  a 
smooth  and  glassy  lake,  which,  seen  through  a  vista 
of  trees,  seemed  formed  by  nature  as  if  for  the  pur- 
pose of  exhibiting  herself  in  her  own  bright  mirror  ; 
and  lay,  an  emblem  of  repose  and  beauty,  enclosed 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  33 

within  a  wall,  whose  towering  and  embattled  heights 
bade  defiance  to  all  unwelcome  intruders.  Escaping 
from  this  quiet  bed  by  a  rather  confined  channel,  and 
flowing  down  a  steep  descent,  the  water  soon  assumed 
a  very  different  character,  and  frequent  openings  of  the 
trees  discovered  it  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator,  as  it 
wound,  dashing  and  foaming,  round  the  margin  of  the 
park,  till  it  came  nearly  in  front  of  the  house,  when  it 
hurried  down  the  edge  of  a  perpendicular  rock  of 
many  feet  in  height,  into  a  deep  chasm  or  basin  that 
seemed  formed  for  the  purpose  of  swallowing  up  every 
obstacle  that  the  impatient  stream  had  encountered  in 
its  course,  and  then  left  it  again,  to  follow  on  in  a  smooth 
and  gentle  current  towards  the  romantic  Ullswater,  to 
which  it  was  a  tributary.  Thus  defended,  the  noble 
mansion  had  little  need  of  walls  to  secure  it  from 
attack,  except  to  the  north,  and  round  a  part  of  the 
western  boundary  ;  but  here  they  were  high  and  strong, 
and  continued  till  the  precipitous  cliffs,  down  which  the 
torrent  rushed,  made  any  farther  defence  superfluous. 
These  walls  had,  in  ancient  times,  been  guarded  by 
armed  retainers  ;  and  the  warden  had  blown  his  horn, 
with  all  the  precaution  that  the  disturbed  times  had 
rendered  necessary,  on  the  approach  of  a  stranger  :  but 
such  distrustful  periods  were  long  since  gone  by  ;  the 
massy  gates  were  thrown  open,  and,  though  the  present 
owner  had  not  for  many  years  made  it  his  place  of 
residence,  it  was  inhabited  by  a  sufficient  number  of 
servants  to  keep  the  house  and  grounds  in  such  a  state 
that  he  and  his  daughter  could  visit  it  with  comfort, 
whenever  they  pleased ;  and,  as  it  was  only  the  dis- 
tance of  a  morning's  ride  from  the  town  in  which  they 
resided,  ft  seldom  happened  that  many  days  passed 


34  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

without  their  paying  a  visit  to  the  seat  of  their  fathers. 
The  business  of  preparing  for  the  intended  fete  had 
taken  them  there  almost  daily,  and  Augusta  had  made 
frequent  attempts  to  prevail  upon  her  mother  to  fami- 
liarize her  feelings  to  the  sight  of  the  place  from  which 
she  had  so  long  absented  herself,  but  in  vain.  All  she 
could  obtain  was,  a  repetition  of  her  promise  to  be 
present  at  the  approaching  festival,  with  an  assurance 
that  nothing,  but  a  desire  to  give  her  daughter,  on  the 
eve  of  their  first  separation,  a  proof  of  her  great  desire 
to  gratify  her,  could  have  induced  her  to  expose  her- 
self to  so  much  unnecessary  pain.  But  like  all  arbi- 
trary and  self-willed  tempers,  Augusta,  instead  of  con- 
sidering the  sacrifice  which  her  mother  was  making, 
for  her  sake,  as  a  favour,  dwelt  only  on  that  which  she 
had  refused  to  make,  and  because  she  had  declined 
visiting  the  park  daily,  to  give  the  assistance  of  her 
advice  and  taste  in  the  preparations,  the  self-willed 
girl  persuaded  herself,  that  her  mother  had  refused 
her  every  request,  and  done  all  in  her  power  to 
cast  a  damp  over  her  attempts  at  pleasure.  With 
these  feelings,  she  saw  the  sun  rise  on  the  1st  of  May, 
and  heard  the"  carriage  announced,  which  was  to 
convey  herself  and  parents  to  the  scene  of  hilarity, 
without  any  of  those  feelings  of  pleasure  that  she  had 
so  anxiously  strived  to  anticipate.  Wrapped  in  a  mood 
of  gloomy  discontent,  she  passed  through  the  hall  lined 
with  travelling  trunks,  ready  packed  for  their  depart- 
ure on  the  morrow,  without  a  remark  passing  through 
her  mind,  except  that  this  was  either  an  ostentatious 
show  intended  to  work  upon  her  feelings,  or  else  another 
proof,  in  addition  to  the  many  that  her  mother  had  lately 
given,  that  she  was  only  an  object  of  secondary  con- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  35 

sideration  ;  in  either  of  which  cases  it  would  be  weak- 
ness in  her  to  evince  more  feeling  than  her  parent  her- 
self had  done.  The  same  frame  of  mind  kept  her  from 
making  any  attempt  to  second  the  efforts  of  her  father, 
during  their  ride  to  the  park,  to  divert  his  wife's 
thoughts  from  dwelling  on  the  painful  recollections  of 
the  past,  and  enable  her  to  revisit  her  long-deserted 
mansion,  without  recalling  any  of  the  distressing  cir- 
cumstances that  had  induced  her  so  long  to  absent 
herself  from  it.  But,  for  the  all-absorbing  influence 
of  selfishness  which  engrossed  the  mind  of  the  daugh- 
ter, it  would  have  been  impossible  for  her  to  witness 
the  expression  of  mute  and  unobtrusive  agony  which 
pervaded  her  mother's  face,  as  she  alighted  from  the 
carriage,  and  cast  her  eyes  around  the  scenes  once  so 
familiar  and  so  dear  to  her.  The  expression,  how- 
ever, did  not  escape  the  husband's  watchful  eye  ;  and 
in  the  tenderest  and  gentlest  manner  he  led  her  off,  and 
endeavoured  to  engage  her  attention  where  the  enjoy- 
ment of  others  was  concerned,  as  the  most  likely 
means  of  drawing  her  away  from  herself.  As  it  was 
too  early  in  the  season  to  make  it  safe  to  calculate 
upon  the  latter  part  of  the  day  being  warm  and  fine 
enough  to  admit  of  out-door  amusements,  an  early 
hour  had  been  fixed  for  the  company's  assembling,  so 
that  it  was  not  long  before  the  whole  family  was 
engaged  in  the  necessary  attentions  to  the  guests. 
Augusta  endeavoured  to  persuade  herself  that  she  was 
exceedingly  happy,  as  she  looked  around  and  saw  the 
crowd  of  visiters  assembled  at  her  call.  She  had  made 
many  resolutions  to  let  their  amusement  constitute 
her  sole  business,  and  to  overlook  all  personal  feelings 
where  they  were  concerned ;  and,  as  the  exertion  was 


36  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

new,  for  a  time  it  seemed  pleasant  enough  ;  but  it  VVH& 
not  long  before  she  began  to  feel  weary  of  the  effort, 
and  to  be  annoyed  at  finding  that  people  were  not 
always  disposed  to  be  happy  or  amused  in  the  way 
which  she  recommended.  Another  circumstance  that 
often  occurred,  and  never  did  so  without  causing  a 
most  uncomfortable  feeling  in  her  mind,  was  the 
frequent  remarks  that  she  heard  made,  when  it  was 
not  known  that  she  was  within  hearing,  concerning 
her  mother's  looks. 

*'  What  an  expression  of  misery  there  is  on  Mrs. 
Monkton's  countenance,  notwithstanding  her  efforts 
to  be  cheerful,"  remarked  one.  "I  wonder,"  said 
another,  "  how  Miss  Augusta  can  think  of  letting  her 
mother  leave  the  country  without  her ;  for  it  seems  to 
me  very  doubtful  whether  she  will  ever  see  her  native 
land  again.  She  has  looked  very  delicate  for  many 
years,  but  I  never  saw  any  thing  like  the  alteration 
that  has  taken  place  in  her  appearance  within  the  last 
two  months.  I  am  sure  I  pity  her  from  the  very 
bottom  of  my  heart.  It  is  a  sad  thing  to  go  away  to 
die  in  a  foreign  country,  without  the  attendance  even 
of  her  only  child." 

"  What  a  fool  that  girl  is,"  thought  Augusta  ;  "  be- 
cause mamma  has  not  cheeks  like  red  cabbages,  such 
as  her  own,  she  thinks  she  must  be  dying,  forsooth ; 
and  because  mamma  chooses  to  take  a  voyage  to  a 
foreign  country,  and  I  prefer  staying  at  home,  she 
must  lament  over  her  as  if  she  were  about  to  be  torn 
with  violence  from  her  home  and  family,  without  con- 
sidering, that  if  she  cares  enough  for  me  to  stay  at 
home,  nobody  will  attempt  even  to  persuade  her 
against  it." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  37 

Anxious  to  escape  any  further  remarks  of  this  kind, 
and  feeling  a  wish  to  be  alone  for  a  few  minutes,  by 
way  of  resting  awhile  from  the  fatigue  and  bustle  that 
surrounded  her,  Augusta  struck  into  a  shaded  walk 
that  wound  along  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  and  wandered 
on  without  recollecting  a  determination  that  she  had 
made,  though  it  had  not  been  exacted  of  her  by  either 
of  her  parents,  to  keep  at  a  distance  from  the  water. 
But  her  mind  was  employed  in  ruminating  upon  the 
folly  to  which  people  were  so  much  prone,  of  making 
themselves  busy  in  the  affairs  of  others,  and  especially 
of  finding  out  subjects  of  commiseration  in  the  situa- 
tion of  those  whose  circumstances  have  made  them 
the  objects  of  envy.  "  They  know  that  the  Mouktons, 
of  Monkton  Park,  are  the  most  enviable  beings  they 
are  acquainted  with,"  thought  she  ;  "  and  just  for  the 
sake  of  quieting  their  own  envious  feelings,  they  try 
to  make  us  out  to  be  objects  of  compassion." 

Irritated  and  mortified  at  these  reflections,  Augusta 
paced  along  as  if  hastening  on  an  errand  of  great  im- 
portance, and,  before  she  was  aware,  had  reached  the 
point  of  the  lake  where  the  water  found  its  outlet,  and 
rushed  impetuously  towards  the  chasm  at  a  few  yards 
distance ;  but  what  was  her  surprise,  when  turning 
suddenly  round  an  angle,  she  beheld  her  mother  seated 
on  a  point  of  rock,  with  her  hands  clasped,  and  her 
eyes  fixed  on  the  stream  before  her,  with  a  look  of 
agony  that  Augusta  had  never  before  seen  equalled. 
She  had  long  been  accustomed  to  her  mother's  mourn- 
ful expression  of  countenance,  and  was  familiar  with 
the  idea  that  her  kind  and  affectionate  parent  laboured 
under  a  nervous  depression  of  spirits  ;  but  never  had 
she,  till  this  moment,  had  it  brought  home  to  her 
D 


38  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

heart,  that  a  keen  and  corroding  anguish  was  preying 
upon  her  life.  In  a  transport  of  feeling,  that  was  as 
new  as  it  was  unrestrained,  Augusta  rushed  forward, 
and  throwing  herself  on  her  knees,  at  the  feet  of  her 
parent,  and  clasping  her  arms  around  her  waist,  she 
exclaimed,  "  My  dear,  dear  mamma,  you  are  in  dis- 
tress, your  heart  is  breaking ;  and  I,  your  ungrateful 
child,  am  the  cause  of  it  all." 

"  Not  so,  my  Augusta,"  replied  her  mother,  bend- 
ing tenderly  over  her,  and  the  tears,  as  she  spoke, 
happily  coming  to  the  relief  of  her  highly  excited  feel- 
ings ;  "  you  are  far  from  being  the  cause  of  it  all ;  and 
now,  that  I  see  you  a  sympathizing  friend,  you  will 
be  my  support  and  comfort.  My  sorrow  is,  of  all 
others,  the  most  hopeless,  Augusta,  as  well  as  the 
•worst  to  bear,  for  it  is  the  anguish  of  an  upbraiding 
conscience." 

"Impossible!"  cried  Augusta,  looking  at  her  mo- 
ther as  she  spoke  with  an  expression  of  intense  anxiety, 
from  the  persuasion  that  a  mental  aberration  of  mind 
could  alone  make  her  speak  thus.  "  You  have  always 
been  loo  good  and  too  pure  to  have  an  upbraiding  con- 
science ;  or,  if  you  have  any  cause  for  self-condemna- 
tion, it  can  only  be  for  having  been  too  kind,  too 
indulgent  to  one,  who  has  proved  herself  most  unwor- 
thy of  your  tenderness.  I,  therefore,  my  beloved 
mother,  am  alone  to  blame.  It  is  I,  alone,  who  ought 
to  listen  to  the  voice  of  conscience.  Oh,  do  not  attempt 
to  raise  me,"  continued  Augusta,  in  a  tone  of  deep 
feeling,  as  her  mother  motioned  to  her  to  rise  ;  "  let  mo 
kneel  here  till  I  obtain  your  forgiveness  for  all  the 
shameless  cruelty  of  which  I  have  been  guilty." 

"Augusta,"   said  Mrs.  Monkton,  endeavouring  to 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  39 

speak  with  composure,  "  take  your  seat  by  my  side, 
and  listen  to  me,  while  I  gratify  myself  with  an  indul- 
gence that  I  never  yet  have  enjoyed — that  of  making  a 
friend  and  confidant  of  my  child." 

Augusta  rose  from  her  kneeling  position,  and  as  she 
seated  herself  on  the  rock,  her  mother  threw  her  arm 
tenderly  round  her  neck,  and  then  said,  "  You  al- 
ready know,  my  child,  that  another  little  girl  was  given 
me  at  the  same  time  that  you  were  born,  and  so  ex- 
actly did  you  resemble  each  other  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  any  one  but  those  who  were  in  the  habit  of  ex- 
amining you  with  the  greatest  minuteness,  to  tell  the 
difference  between  you.  Still  there  was  a  difference, 
and  to  me  a  very  sensible  one,  though  I  never 
could  toll  exactly  in  what  it  lay.  '  A  something,  I 
know  not  what,  made  me  always  prefer  nursing  you,, 
and  as  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  have  an  assistant 
to  help  me  in  the  business  of  nursing,  I  gradually  fell 
into  the  habit  of  bestowing  upon  you  the  nutriment 
which  I  had  myself  to  give,  and  leaving  my  little  Aline 
almost  entirely  to  the  care  of  her  nurse.  It  is  true 
I  was  proud  of  you  both,  as  beautiful  twins,  but  your 
sister  partook  but  of  a  very  small  portion  of  my  ten- 
derness ;  and  while  my  whole  time  was  occupied  in 
nursing  and  fondling  you,  I  was  frequently  days  to- 
gether without  bestowing  a  caress  upon  her.  Yes, 
Augusta  !  though  I  had  her  constantly  before  my  view, 
and  took  care  to  see  her  properly  attended  to,  yet  was 
I  a  barbarous  and  unnatural  mother,  for  I  gave  my 
child  no  place  in  my  heart.  Nay  m'ore — as  her  nurse 
was  a  very  strong  and  healthy  woman,  and  the  nou- 
rishment she  had  to  give  being  in  consequence,  I  sup- 
pose, more  nutritive,  your  sister  grew  more  rapidly  ; 


40  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

and  the  first  distinction  that  could  be  remarked  be- 
tween you,  arose  from  her  becoming'  a  larger  and  more 
robust  child  than  yourself — while  I — oh,  how  can  I 
speak  the  words — felt  actual  jealousy  towards  my  own 
child  for  having  thus  got  the  start  of  her  sister.  I  tried 
at  the  time  to  qualify  the  feelings  by  persuading  my- 
self that  it  was  only  regret  at  your  not  being  equally 
strong  and  vigorous,  but  I  cannot  now  conceal  the 
truth  that  I  almost  hated  my  child  for  it.  Oh,  how 
have  I  since  hated  myself,  for  so  diabolical  a  feel- 
ing '/' 

"  O,  do  not  thus  accuse  yourself,  my  dear  mam- 
ma," interrupted  Augusta,  in  a  tone  of  feeling  and  gen- 
tle persuasion  that  no  one  had  ever  before  heard  her 
assume  ;  "  you,  whose  breast  has  ever  been  the  seat  of 
the  tenderest  and  gentlest  affections,  could  never  have 
harboured  such  a  passion."  Her  mother  shook  her 
head  mournfully,  and  then  proceeded.'  .s>  ' 

"  Your  sister  learned  to  walk  first,  and  could  also 
lisp  out  her  first  syllables  before  you  were  able  to 
utter  any  articulate  sound,  but  as  she  only  said  '  mam- 
my ;'  while  she  clasped  her  little  arms  round  the  neck 
of  her  nurse,  it  failed  to  warm  my  heart  towards  her  ; 
and  I  only  longed  for  the  moment  when  I  should  hear 
v^u  lisp  my  own  name,  and  see  you  run  into  my 
arms.  You  had  just  done  this,  and  were  very  near 
the  completion  of  your  first  year,  when  I  was  called 
away  to  attend  my  mother's  death-bed.  That  I  should 
not  attempt  to  take  two  children,  so  young,  to  the 
house  of  sickness  and  death,  is  not  extraordinary  ; 
neither  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  child  I  took 
with  me  should  be  the  one  that  had  always  depended 
upon  me  for  its  nourishment  ;  but  my  blood  runs  cold 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  41 

in  my  veins  when  I  call  to  mind  the  indifference  I  felt 
at  leaving  the  little  Aline  behind.  But  an  avenging 
Heaven  had  my  punishment  in  store.  I  witnessed  the 
last  moments  of  my  beloved  mother,  and  saw  her  re- 
mains deposited  in  the  tomb,  and  then  hastened  home. 
It  was  the  1st  of  May — your  birth-day — on  which 
we  returned  home.  For  some  time  before  we  arrived 
at  the  western  gate,  your  father  had  begun  to  talk  of 
seeing  nurse  standing  there  to  receive  us  with  the  little 
Aline  in  her  arms.  When  we  reached  the  gate,  how- 
ever, no  nurse  was  visible  ;  nor  had  she  appeared  even 
when  the  carriage  had  reached  the  front  door.  I  know 
not  what  it  was  that  seized  me,  but  a  death-like  cold- 
ness crept  over  my  frame,  and  when  I  attempted  to 
alight  from  the  carriage  I  sunk  into  your  father's  arms 
motionless,  but  not  insensible.  Oh  !  how  many,  many 
times  have  I  since  been  tempted  to  wish  that  sensi- 
bility had  then  forsaken  me,  never  more  to  return. 
How  many  hours  of  remorse  and  agony  should  I  then 
have  been  spared.  But  I  did  not  deserve  to  be  so 
mercifully  treated." 

"  Oh  !  do  not  talk  s"o,  my  dear  mother,"  cried  Au- 
gusta, her  fine  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  as  they  rest- 
ed on  her  mother's  face  with  a  mingled  feeling  of  pity 
and  tenderness  ;  "  do  not  accuse  yourself  thus  ;  indeed, 
it  is  only  the  working  of  a  heated  imagination.  It  is 
impossible  you  could  ever  have  done  any  thing  de- 
serving of  punishment !" 

"  The  moment  that  I  found  the  nurse  was  not  ready 

to  produce  her  charge,  the  horror  of  my  guilt  came 

over  me,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  been  the  murderer  of  my 

child.     Your  father,  though  he  had   no  guilt   to  re- 

D  2 


42  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

proach  himself  with,  for  his  heart  had  ever  flowed 
with  equal  tenderness  to  both,  immediately  took  the 
alarm,  and  inquired  eagerly  for  the  nurse  and  child, 
but  no  one  could  give  any  account  of  either.  The 
woman  had  been  seen  in  the  morning,  walking  to  the 
village  with  your  sister,  and  afterwards  down  the 
lawn  towards  the  park ;  but  she  had  never  been  seen 
since.  Search  was  made  in  every  direction,  and  at 
length  some  slight  traces  of  little  foot-prints  were  dis- 
covered, just  there  before  us,  close  to  the  water's  edge  ; 
and  a  scrap  of  one  of  her  little  frocks  was  found  at- 
tached to  one  of  those  bushes,  that  very  twig  there 
before  us,  that  overhangs  the  lake,  as  if  it  had  made 
an  attempt  to  restrain  the  little  sufferer  in  her  passage  ; 
but  the  material  by  which  it  held,  being  too  weak  to 
oppose  the  current,  it  had  given  way,  and  the  little 
victim  had  been  hurried  to  destruction." 

"  And  what,"  asked  Augusta,  eagerly,  "became  of 
the  woman  herself? — she  surely  had  not  shared  the 
same  fate !" 

"  She  never  was  heard  of  more.  Though  every  means 
were  used  to  obtain  information  of  her,  by  means  of 
advertisements,  and  every  other  method  that  could  be 
thought  of;  all  were  alike  ineffectual.  Your  father 
published  handbills  all  round  the  country,  promising 
not  only  pardon  for  any  neglect  of  which  she  might 
have  been  guilty,  but  even  a  sum  of  money,  if  she 
would  only  come  forward  and  let  him  know  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  child's  fate  ;  but  all  to  no  purpose  ; 
no  information  could  ever  be  obtained,  and  all  that  I 
know  is,  that  I  left  the  fate  of  my  helpless  infant  in  the 
bands  of  others,  and  am  answerable  for  the  conse- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  43 

quences.  This  is  the  deep  and  corroding  sorrow  that 
has  been  undermining  my  very  existence  for  the  last 
fourteen  years,  and  which  will,  before  long,  bring  me 
to  the  grave." 

*'  Oh,  no  !"  cried  Augusta,  with  energy,  "  that  shall 
not  be.  The  daughter  that  yet  remains  to  you 
will  make  it  the  business  of  her  life  to  heal  the 
wounds  of  your  bleeding  spirit,  my  beloved  mother. 
I  will  go  where  you  go,  and  will  watch  over  and 
comfort  you ;  and  the  novelty  of  new  scenes,  and 
the  still  greater  novelty  of  your  child's  attentions, 
will  raise  your  drooping  spirit,  and  teach  you  again 
to  be  happy." 

"  They  will  not  '  minister  to  a  mind  diseased,'  " 
returned  Mrs.  Monkton,  mournfully ;  "  though  they 
may  relieve  me  from  the  further  pang  of  finding,  that, 
in  addition  to  having  been  the  means  of  destroying  ihe 
life  of  one  child,  I  have,  by  my  apathy  and  shameful 
indulgence,  undermined  the  moral  dignity  of  the  other ; 
an  error  of  which  I  have  only  very  lately  become  sen- 
sible ;  but  for  which  my  contrition  was  so  great,  that  T 
had  resolved  to  make  the  expiation  by  parting  from 
you," my  beloved  child,  though  convinced  that  in  leav- 
ing you,  I  should  bid  adieu  to  the  small  remains  of 
happiness  that  has  hitherto  been  my  portion." 

"  We  will  not  part,  my  mamma.  I  will  cross  the 
ocean  with  you,  and  will  travel  through  the  wilds  of 
America  with  you.  Wherever  you  go,  I  will  go;  and 
I  will,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  be  to  you  as  a 
daughter." 

At  this  moment  a  servant  appeared,  who  said, 
that  Mr.  Monkton  had  become  alarmed  at  the  long 


44  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

disappearance  of  the  ladies ;  and  had  sent  in  various 
directions  to  seek  for  them  ;  and  Mrs.  Monkton,  making 
a  severe  effort  to  compose  her  spirits,  and  drive  the 
marks  of  agitation  from  her  countenance,  hastened, 
with  what  might  be  called  her  newly  discovered 
daughter,  to  rejoin  the  company.  As  they  approached 
him,  Mr.  Monkton  looked  anxiously  in  the  counte- 
nance of  each,  expecting  to  find  in  their  expression, 
that  Augusta  had,  as  usual,  overcome  her  mother's 
resolution,  and  obtained  the  gratification  of  her  own 
wishes  ;  but  he  neither  read  in  the  subdued  and  soft- 
ened expression  of  the  daughter  any  of  the  usual 
triumphant  signs  of  victory,  nor  in  the  calm  and  com- 
paratively cheerful  countenance  of  the  mother,  the  self- 
upbraidings  which  usually  accompanied  her  supine 
compliance  with  her  daughter's  wishes  ;  and  nothing 
could  exceed  his  delight  and  astonishment,  when,  in 
the  course  of  the  day,  he  learned  from  his  wife  the 
result  of  her  conversation  with  Augusta. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  passed  over  much  more 
agreeably  than  its  commencement  had  done.  With 
Augusta,  every  thing  wore  a  new  aspect.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  she  had  made  a  sacrifice  to  the 
feelings  of  others,  from  amiable  and  affectionate  mo- 
tives ;  and  the  new  and  delightful  sensation  of  self- 
approbation  gave  a  glow  to  every  object  around  her. 
She  had  never  before  known  the  pleasure  of  receiving 
her  father's  praises,  with  a  consciousness  of  having 
deserved  them ;  nor  till  then  had  she  ever  felt  the 
delight  of  seeing  her  mother's  eyes  resting  with  fond 
admiration  on  her  face,  for  she  had  never  before  felt 
conscious  of  deserving  the  tenderness  which  they 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  45 

expressed.  From  being  pleased  with  herself,  she  was 
disposed  to  be  more  kind  and  attentive  to  others,  and 
she  mingled  with  her  gnests,  not  with  that  forced  con- 
descension of  a  proud  mind,  but  with  that  benevolent 
wish  to  please  which  no  art  can  substitute  ;  and  at 
length  saw  her  guests  depart,  all  highly  delighted 
with  their  visit,  and  loud  in  their  praises  of  the  beauty, 
accomplishments,  and  graceful  manners  of  the  heiress 
of  Monkton  Park. 


46  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  alterations  in  his  arrangements,  consequent  on 
the  change  in  his  daughter's  determination,  were  soon 
made  by  Mr.  Monkton  ;  and  he,  his  lady  and  daughter, 
attended  by  Mrs.  Monkton's  maid  Dawson,  and  his  own 
favourite  valet  Stephen,  embarked  at  Liverpool,  in  the 
packet  of  that  month,  for  Philadelphia.  Their  pas- 
sage, though  long,  was  pleasant,  and  they  reached  the 
Delaware  Bay  in  the  beginning  of  July,  all  much 
improved  in  health  by  their  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  ; 
though,  at  the  same  time,  very  anxious  to  escape  the 
confinement  of  the  vessel.  As  they  found,  on  reach- 
ing the  capes,  in  consequence  of  the  wind  being 
directly  opposed  to  them,  that  it  would  probably  be  a 
day  or  two  before  the  ship  could  get  up  to  Philadel- 
phia, Mr.  Monkton  determined  to  leave  the  servants 
in  the  vessel,  in  charge  of  the  baggage,  and  to  proceed 
themselves  to  the  city  in  one  of  the  steamboats.  To 
one  accustomed  to  range  at  large,  as  Augusta  had  ever 
been,  any  change  from  the  narrow  bounds  within 
which  she  had  been  so  long  confined  was  acceptable  ; 
and  she  jumped  into  the  steamboat  with  the  alacrity 
of  a  bird  let  loose  from  a  cage.  Her  life  had  hitherto 
been  spent  within  the  precincts  of  a  small  country 
town,  and  her  means  of  observation  had,  of  course, 
been  very  limited ;  so  that,  though  possessed  of  as 
much  information,  derived  from  books  and  the  conver- 
sation of  her  parents,  as  is  in  general  possessed  by 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  47 

girls  of  her  age,  she  yet  saw  wonders  on  every  hand 
in  the  new  world  she  was  entering;  and  as  she  had 
never  been  in  the  habit  of  restraining  her  impulses,  to 
wonder,  and  to  express  her  surprise,  were  with  her 
one  and  the  same  thing. 

"  Why,  mamma,"  said  she,  after  she  had  made  a 
survey  of  the  cabins  and  various  accommodations  of 
the  vessel,  "  I  had  no  idea  the  Americans  were  so  far 
advanced  in  civilization.  What  handsome  furniture 
they  have,  and  how  very  comfortable  and  commodious 
this  boat  is  !  And  look  at  all  the  men  belonging  to 
her ;  what  beautifully  white  linen  they  have,  and  how 
neat  and  clean  they  all  are.  And  do  look  at  that  black 
man,  how  smart  he  is  !  I  had  no  idea  that  the  slaves 
were  so  well  off."  '%  - 

"  That  man  is  not  a  slave,  ray  young  lady,"  said 
an  elderly  gentleman,  with  whom  Mr.  Monkton  had 
already  got  into  conversation  ;  "  he  is  a  free  black, 
and  in  the  habit  of  receiving  wages  that  would  be 
wealth  to  one-half  of  your  English  population.  When 
you  see  our  slaves,  however,  you  will  find  that  they 
have  no  less  the  appearance  of  comfort  and  good 
living." 

"  Then  I  am  sure,"  returned  Augusta,  "  I  do  not 
know  why  there  is  so  much  work  made  about  them  in 
England.  It  is  a  pity  that  those  who  lament  their 
condition  so  much,  do  not  come  over  here  and  see 
them." 

"  Liberty,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  is  a  blessing  so 
dear  to  us  all,  that  perhaps  the  mere  circumstance  of 
being  deprived  of  it  makes  them  fit  objects  for  com- 
miseration ;  but  it  would  be  well,  as  you  say,  if  those 
who  advocate  the  abolition  of  slavery,  would  take  care 


48  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

and  examine  coolly  how  far  our  slaves  are  yet  pre 
pared  for  the  liberty  which  is  so  loudly  called  for, 
before  they  put  it  into  their  hands." 

Here  Augusta  interrupted  the  conversation  by  burst- 
ing out  a  laughing,  as  she  exclaimed,  "  O,  look,  look, 
mamma,  at  those  three  strange  women  that  have  just 
seated  themselves  opposite.  Did  you  ever  see  such 
dresses  in  your  life  ?" 

/  "Have  you  no  such  women  in  England?"  asked 
the  stranger,  to  whom  we  shall  give  the  name  of 
Ellmore. 

"  O,  none,"  replied  Augusta,  "nor  anything  like 
them." 

"  That  is  a  very  natural  answer  for  a  young,  inex- 
perienced traveller  like  yourself,"  answered  Mr.  Ell- 
more,  with  a  benevolent  smile  ;  "  but  I  suspect  your 
father  and  mother  will  tell  you  that  Sisters  of  Charity 
are  far  from  being  unknown  in  England." 

"  I  have  heard  of  such  a  class  of  females  in  England 
as  well  as  in  various  other  parts  of  Europe,"  said  Mr. 
Monkton,  "  but  I  never  happened  to  meet  with  any  of 
them  before." 

"  Sisters  of  Charity !"  repeated  Mrs.  Monkton.  "O, 
those  are  the  religious  enthusiasts  that  we  heard  de- 
scribed a  short  time  before  we  left  home,  who  imagine 
that  religion  consists  in  depriving  themselves  of  every 
comfort,  and  making  life  a  scene  of  toil  and  misery." 

"  Look  at  those  faces,  my  dear  madam,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  which  are  just  appearing  beneath  those 
close  veils,  and*  tell  me  if  they  exhibit  the  countenances 
of  those  whose  lives  are  spent  in  pain  and  mortifica- 
tion." 

Mrs.  Monkton  did  as  she  was  desired,  and  her  eye 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  49 

was  immediately  fixed  upon  the  blooming  and  beauti 
ful  face  of  a  young  woman,  evidently  not  above  two 
and  twenty,  whose  countenance,  though  placid,  seem- 
ed to  beam  with  cheerfulness,  intelligence,  and  con- 
tentment. 

"  That  is  indeed  a  lovely  face,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  extreme  surprise  ;  "  and  that  older  one,  to  the 
right,  with  her  fine  dark  eyes,  and  almost  laughing 
face,  seems  any  thing  but  a  child  of  misery.  Pray, 
how  is  it  ?  Surely  we  must  have  been  misinformed 
respecting  the  order." 

"  You  have  been  misinformed,  so  far  as  this," 
replied  Mr.  Ellmore,  "  instead  of  considering  religion 
to  consist  in  mere  acts  of  self-mortification,  they  prove 
their  piety,  and  obedience  to  their  Maker,  by  following 
the  example  which  their  Lord  and  Master  set  them 
when  on  earth ;  in  '  going  about,  doing  good.' 
Wherever  ignorance  can  be  instructed,  pain  relieved, 
or  vice  reclaimed,  these  holy  women  will  always  be 
found  ready  to  attend,  at  whatever  inconvenience  to 
themselves,  and  even  at  the  imminent  risk  of  life 
itself." 

"  You  are  yourself  a  Catholic,  I  presume,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Monkton,  with  a  sort  of  distrustful  smile. 

"  No,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  look  at  my  plain  coat,  you 
will  know  that,  on  the  contrary,  I  hardly  agree  with 
the  Catholics  in  a  single  article  of  faith,  except  those 
leading  ones  in  which  all  denominations  are  united. 
But  it  is  not  necessary  to  be  a  Catholic,  to  admire  and 
revere  these  pious  and  self-devoted  women.  Nor  can 
we  help  respecting  that  religious  faith,  however  mis- 
taken we  may  consider  some  of  its  views,  which  can 
induce  young,  delicate,  and  interesting  females  to 
E 


50  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

leave  the  homes  in  which  they  were  nursed  in  the  lap 
of  luxury,  to  wander  amongst  strangers  ;  to  frequent 
the  abodes  of  disease  and  death;  and  devote  their 
whole  lives  to  the  mitigation  of  human  misery,  and 
the  propagation  of  religion  and  piety." 

"That  last  object,  I  presume,  is  the  motive  which 
incites  them,"  said  Mr.  Monkton.  "  Sectarian  zeal, 
and  an  extreme  anxiety  to  propagate  their  own  bigoted 
views  of  religion,  could  alone  lead  to  such  self-denial 
and  endurance." 

"  When  I  see  such  acts  of  charity  as  these  holy 
women  practise,"  rejoined  his  companion,  "  I  do  not 
trouble  myself  to  investigate  very  minutely  the  motives 
of  those  who  perform  them ;  but  content  myself,  that 
where  so  much  is  given  without  any  visible  return, 
the  motive  must  be  good,  even  though  the  judgment 
may  be  mistaken.  What  but  the  purest  motives  could 
lead  these  delicate  females,  during  the  raging  of  the 
cholera  in  our  various  cities,  to  seek  out  the  sufferers, 
and  administer  to  their  wants,  when  even  hired  assist- 
ants refused  to  attend.  I  was  informed  by  one  of  our 
first  physicians  in  Philadelphia,  that  while  visiting  the 
Almshouse,  during  the  prevalence  of  the  cholera,  he 
found  it  impossible  to  get  nurses  for  the  patients,  or  any 
one  to  administer  the  remedies  that  he  prescribed.  He 
instanced  one  case  in  particular,  of  a  woman,  who  was 
beginning  to  recover  from  the  disease.  He  visited 
her  about  ten  o'clock  one  forenoon,  and  left  her,  with 
the  promise  that  he  would,  when  he  went  down  stairs, 
order  a  little  toast  and  water,  which  she  had  particularly 
desired  to  have,  to  be  taken  to  her.  He  gave  the 
order,  and  returned  at  six  in  the  evening,  and  found 
her  lying  with  two  dead  bodies,  of  patients  who  had 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  5 

expired  in  the  interval,  still  in  the  room,  without  a 
thing  having  been  done  to  them,  and  she  still  waiting 
for  the  toast  and  water,  without  having  been  visited  by 
a  single  creature  from  the  time  of  his  leaving  her.  In 
consequence  of  repeated  instances  of  neglect  such  as 
this,  he  proposed  to  the  board  of  managers,  to  invite 
some  Sisters  of  Charity  to  come,  and  take  the  care  of 
the  institution.  The  proposal  was  agreed  to,  and  the 
request  despatched  to  Emmetsburgh,  and  in  as  short  a 
time  as  it  was  possible  for  an  answer  to  be  returned, 
either  two  or  three  of  these  pious  women  arrived. 
When  they  went  to  the  Almshouse,  they  were  shown 
into  a  very  neat  room,  which  was  intended  to  be 
appropriated  to  their  use  ;  but  they  immediately  said, 
'  This  is  not  the  place  for  us.  We  want  to  be  taken 
to  the  sufferers  whom  we  came  to  assist.  Show  us  to 
the  chambers  of  the  sick.'  And  there  they  stationed 
themselves,  and  with  unwearied  zeal,  and  undeviating 
tenderness,  they  devoted  themselves  to  the  pious  work, 
and  so  faithfully  were  the  duties  performed,  and  so 
superior  was  the  management  of  the  house  to  any 
thing  that  had  before  been  experienced,  that  it  was  the 
wish  of  the  corporation  to  retain  them,  even  after  the 
disease  had  disappeared.  This,  however,  was  deem- 
ed by  the  superiors  of  their  society  an  unnecessary 
exertion  of  charity,  as  the  institution  was  fully  able  to 
hire  assistance,  and  they  were  not  likely  to  be  able  to 
do  any  more  good  in  that  situation  than  those  could 
do  who  were  paid  for  their  labours." 

"  But  were  they  not  paid  for  what  they  did  ?"  asked 
Augusta. 

"  No,  my  dear  young  lady  ;  their  only  reward  was 
an  approving  conscience.  Their  society  admits  of  no 


52  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

pecuniary  remuneration.  The  corporation  offered 
them  money,  but  it  was  refused.  A  piece  of  plate  was 
then  proposed,  with  an  inscription  expressive  of  the 
gratitude  of  the  city  ;  but  that  was  as  steadily  declined ; 
and  the  only  arrangement  that  could  be  made  was,  that 
our  corporation  should  present  to  the  Orphan  Asylum 
the  money  that  had  been  intended  for  them." 

"  O,  how  such  noble  women  must  be  admired  and 
loved  in  your  city,"  said  Augusta,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  They  are,  indeed,  wherever  they  are  known  ;  but 
unfortunately  there  are  too  many  who  have  the  same 
limited  view  of  their  characters  that  you  all  had,  when 
we  first  began  to  speak  of  them." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton,  "  we  are  under 
great  obligations  to  you,  sir,  for  the  information  you 
have  given  us.  For  my  part,  I  shall  always,  in  future, 
feel  when  I  am  near  any  of  these  pious  sisters,  that  I 
am  on  hallowed  ground." 

"  O,  I  shall  even  love  their  wide  sleeves,  and  little 
bonnets  and  veils  ;  and  their  huge  shawls,  though  they 
do  look  so  melting,  on  such  a  day  as  this.  Nay,  1 
shall,  in  future,  even  love  the  Catholic  religion  itself, 
for  the  sake  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,"  said  Augusta ; 
and  as  she  spoke  her  fine  hazel  eyes  lighted  up  with 
such  a  glow  of  feeling,  that  her  new  acquaintance 
looked  at  her,  and  thought  he  had  never  before  seen  so 
beautiful  a  creature. 

From  this  time,  Augusta  scarcely  ever  took  her 
eyes  off  the  interesting  and  pious  sisters,  whose  quiet 
and  unobtrusive  manners  every  moment  increased  her 
respect.  When  dinner  was  announced,  she  begged 
her  papa  to  procure  them  seats  near  these  holy  women, 
and  she  soon  found  herself  placed  at  the  dinner  table, 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  53 

directly  opposite  to  them.  This  contiguity  of  situa- 
tion soon  furnished  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Monkton  with  an 
opportunity  of  entering  into  conversation  with  them, 
by  commencing  with  some  of  the  various  little  civili- 
ties which  the  etiquette  of  the  dinner-table  affords. 
They  found  their  manners  those  of  women  who  had 
been  accustomed  to  polite  society ;  and  noticed,  that 
though  simple  and  retiring,  they  evinced  no  repug- 
nance to  conversing  with  the  strangers ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  seemed  happy  in  having  an  opportunity  of 
exercising  towards  them  some  of  the  courtesies  of  life. 
The  harmony  of  the  dinner-table,  however,  was  soon 
interrupted,  by  an  alarm  which  took  place  in  the  boat, 
in  consequence  of  some  of  the  machinery  having  given 
way,  and  in  an  instant  screams  and  exclamations  re- 
echoed from  all  quarters.  The  sisters,  alone,  remained 
composed  and  tranquil ;  and,  as  Augusta  clung  scream- 
ing and  terrified  to  one  arm  of  her  father,  while  her 
mother  clasped  the  other,  in  quieter  though  not  less 
painful  alarm,  she  happened  to  cast  her  eyes  on  their 
pious  companions,  and  observing  that  they  were 
wholly  absorbed  in  offering  uj)  their  silent  and  unos- 
tentatious prayers  to  heaven,  she,  in  an  instant,  reco- 
vered her  self-possession,  and,  speaking  in  a  calm 
voice,  said,  "  Let  us  sit  down  quietly,  dear  mamma, 
and  wait,  under  the  protection  of  these  holy  spirits,  the 
fate  that  awaits  us." 

The  same  influence  which  had  thus  operated  upon 
the  daughter,  immediately  communicated  itself  to  the 
mother;  and  they  were  both  instantly  seated  close 
beside  the  kneeling  sisters,  as  if  anxious  to  be  within 
reach  of  the  atmosphere  on  which  their  prayers  were 
ascending  to  heaven.  Mr.  Monkton,  though  unin- 


O4  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

fluenced  by  enthusiasm,  was  too  happy  at  seeing  his 
wife  and  daughter  restored  to  comparative  composure, 
to  do  or  say  any  thing  that  was  likely  to  break  the 
spell,  and  they  all  sat  waiting,  in  silent  suspense,  the 
decision  of  their  fate.  It  was  long  before  the  sailors 
could  get  any  command  over  the  vessel,  for  the  wind, 
which  from  the  first  had  been  contrary,  now  began 
to  be  very  boisterous,  and  great  alarm  was  enter- 
tained of  their  being  driven  out  to  sea  in  the  helpless 
state  in  which  they  then  were,  when,  in  an  instant, 
the  boat  became  stationary,  and  it  was  soon  found  that 
she  had  struck  upon  a  sand  bank.  As  the  storm  every 
moment  became  more  and  more  violent,  and  torrents  of 
rain,  accompanied  by  vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  began  to 
pour  down,  everybody  appeared  perfectly  satisfied  at 
having  to  remain  where  they  were,  at  least  till  a  more 
favourable  change  should  take  place  in  the  weather ; 
and  Augusta  and  her  mother,  with  an  arm  clasped 
round  each  other's  waists,  sat  silent  and  composed, 
partaking  in  spirit,  though  not  in  actual  performance, 
in  the  devotional  exercise  of  their  pious  neighbours. 
The  Monktons  were  like  thousands  that  we  meet  with 
in  the  world,  good  and  estimable  people,  who  would 
have  been  exceedingly  shocked  at  having  a  charge  of 
irreligion  made  against  them,  yet  who  had  been  so 
little  in  the  habit  of  making  the  exercises  of  devotion 
any  part  of  the  business  of  their  lives,  that  an  act  of 
prayer,  except  such  as  is  passed  through  in  the  ordi- 
nary routine  of  the  church  service,  appeared  to  them 
as  extraordinary  a  sight  as  any  they  were  likely  to 
meet  with  in  the  new  world.  Had  Augusta  seen  these 
women  kneeling  down,  and  offering  up  their  souls  to 
their  Maker,  while  no  other  impression  rested  on  her 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


mind  concerning  them,  except  the  inclination  to  laugh, 
which  the  peculiarity  of  their  dress  at  first  excited,  the 
probability  is,  that  their  acts  of  piety  would  only  have 
been  viewed  as  ridiculous  ;  but  so  deeply  had  her  heart 
been  touched  by  the  account  she  had  heard  of  their 
extraordinary  benevolence  and  self-denial,  that  a  feel- 
ing, of  which  she  had  never  before  been,  conscious — a 
conviction  that  religion  was  a  business  of  the  heart — 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  entered  her  mind,  and  she 
looked  with  admiration,  mingled  with  envy,  at  those 
who  had  learned  to  make  it  the  guide  and  guardian  of 
their  lives.  At  length  the  sisters  rose  from  the  kneel- 
ing posture  in  which  they  had  so  long  remained,  and 
asking,  as  if  it  was  the  first  time  that  the  subject  had 
entered  their  minds,  what  was  the  situation  of  the 
boat;  and  being  assured  it  was,  for  the  present,  at 
least,  out  of  danger,  they  seated  themselves  cheerfully, 
but  without  any  extravagant  demonstrations  of  pleasure, 
on  the  seats  at  which  they  had  just  knelt,  and  were 
very  soon  drawn  by  the  Monktons  into  a  conversation 
which  served  to  amuse  the  whole  party  during  the 
remainder  of  the  day,  and  the  chief  part  of  the  night; 
till  sleep  began  gradually  to  steal  over  their  senses, 
and  one  head  after  another  sunk  on  the  table  before 
them,  or  reclined  back  against  the  side  of  the  boat, 
(for  the  ladies'  cabin  had  long  before  been  filled  to 
overflowing,)  and  stillness  reigned  throughout  the 
party,  till  the  beams  of  day  again  enlivened  the  scene 
around  them. 


56  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


V, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

As  sleep  relaxed  its  hold  of  the  party,  and  the  bright 
beams  of  the  sun  greeted  their  opening  eyes,  the  sub- 
ject of  how  they  should  escape  from  the  disabled  boat 
began  to  be  generally  discussed.  It  was  not  long, 
however,  before  a  steamboat  was  seen  approaching ; 
and  the  master,  immediately  on  seeing  their  situation, 
drew  up  sufficiently  near  to  enable  all  who  wished  it 
to  transfer  themselves,  through  the  medium  of  a  small 
boat,  from  one  vessel  to  another ;  and  very  few  failed 
to  take  advantage  of  it.  They  found  that  the  boat 
they  had  got  into,  was  one  employed  to  bring  fruit 
and  vegetables  from  Jersey  to  Wilmington  ;  but  as  Mr. 
Monkton  was  assured  that  a  conveyance  might  be 
obtained  from  that  town  to  Philadelphia,  almost  any 
hour,  he  was  not  sorry  to  have  so  early  an  opportunity 
of  once  more  touching  terra  firma.  To  Augusta,  the 
thought  of  setting  her  foot  on  dry  land  was  still  more 
delightful ;  but  when  the  boat  wound  up  the  Christina 
creek,  and  she  saw  the  beautifully  rising  hills  all  around 
her,  ornamented  with  trees  and  enlivened  with  villas, 
she  could  scarcely  control  her  impatience  to  be  once 
more  at  liberty  to  wander  amongst  them  free  from 
restraint.  On  the  arrival  of  the  boat  at  the  pier,  she 
jumped,  almost  without  waiting  till  the  vessel  had  be- 
come stationary,  on  to  the  land,  and  stood  watching  the 
others  follow  her  with  an  expression  of  exultation,  as  if  to 
say,  "  I  have  got  a  few  moments  of  happiness  the  start 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  67 

of  you."  Her  father  and  mother  soon  followed,  but 
Augusta  would  not  move  from  the  vicinity  of  the  boat 
lill  she  had  seen  the  pious  sisters  landed.  At  all  times 
gentle  and  unobtrusive,  they  remained  quietly  behind 
till  the  crowding  was  over,  and  then  they  advanced ; 
but  just  as  the  youngest  of  the  three  set  her  foot  upon 
the  pier,  Augusta  observed  her  steps  falter,  and  an 
ashy  paleness  come  over  her  face.  Anxious  to  save 
her  from  falling,  the  ardent  girl  sprang  forward,  but  her 
strength  being  altogether  inadequate  to  what  she  had 
undertaken,  her  effort  only  served  to  involve  herself  in 
the  accident,  and  they  fell  together.  They  were,  of 
course,  raised  almost  as  quickly  as  they  had  fallen,  and 
the  temporary  alarm  which  their  fall  had  occasioned, 
especially  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Monkton,  was  soon  re- 
lieved, by  their  being  found  to  be  uninjured.  Even 
the  sister  herself  was  restored  to  consciousness  almost 
before  she  was  raised  from  the  ground ;  and  carriages 
being  procured  by  Mr.  Monkton,  she  and  her  com- 
panions were  conveyed,  by  his  orders,  to  the  orphan 
asylum  ;  while  himself  and  family,  and  their  new 
acquaintance,  Mr.  Ellmore,  drove  to  a  hotel. 

"  The  alarm  and  confusion  in  which  we  have  all 
been  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  has  prevented  my 
recollecting,  till  this  moment,  that  you  have  landed  on 
our  shores  on  the  greatest  holiday  that  we  have 
throughout  the  year,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  when  they 
were  seated  in  the  carriage ;  "  this  is  the  4th  of  July, 
the  great  anniversary  of  our  independence,  and  there 
are  few  in  the  country  so  poor  as  not  to  take  pleasure 
to  themselves  on  this  day." 

"  I  hope  they  will  not  be  too  much  occupied  with 
their  pleasure  to  give  us  our  breakfasts,"  said  Mr. 


58-  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

Monkton,  "  for  I  now  begin  to  feel  that  we  have  had 
very  spare  doings  of  late." 

"  You  will  get  breakfast,  no  doubt ;  but  neither 
your  attendance  nor  your  fare  may  perhaps  be  quite 
so  good  as  you  would  find  it  on  any  other  day.  The 
people  of  the  hotel  will,  I  am  sure,  do  their  best,  as 
far  as  they  themselves  are  concerned;  but  domestics 
in  general,  who  are  never  at  any  time  in  much  subor- 
dination in  this  country,  are  on  this  day  almost 
entirely  intractable." 

The  carriage  had  by  this  time  driven  up  to  the 
door  of  the  hotel,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes,  Mrs. 
Monkton  and  Augusta,  who  were  much  more  disposed 
for  sleeping 'than  eating,  were  comfortably  stretched 
on  good  beds,  where  they  made  up  for  the  fatigues  of 
the  preceding  night  by  a  sound  and  quiet  sleep.  The 
day  was  far  advanced  before  they  were  again  roused 
to  action,  when  the  firing  of  squibs  and  the  rattling  of 
drums  recalled  to  their  recollection  where  they  were 
and  what  was  the  day.  In  a  minute,  Augusta  was  up 
and  had  commenced  the  operation  of  dressing,  deter- 
mined to  prevail  upon  her  father  to  go  with  her  to 
inspect  the  festivities  of  the  day ;  but  when  about 
to  put  on  her  frock,  she  found  that  in  her  fall,  at 
the  time  that  she  had  attempted  to  assist  the  Sister 
of  Charity,  she  had  soiled  her  frock  on  the  ground, 
which  was  still  very  wet  from  the  rain  that  had 
fallen  on  the  preceding  night ;  but  as  it  was  a  black  silk 
one,  she  knew  that  a  wet  sponge  would  soon  remedy 
the  evil,  and  she  went  up  to  the  head  of  the  bed  in 
search  of  a  bell-rope,  that  she  might  ring  for  a  chamber- 
maid to  perform  the  office  for  her. 

*'  What  are  you  searching  for,  my  dear  ?"  asked  her 


THE    TWO    SCHOOL*.  59 

mother,  raising  her  head  from  the  pillow,  and  following 
her  daughter  with  her  eyes,  as  she  wandered  round 
and  round  the  room. 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  bell-pull,"  answered  Augusta  ; 
'  surely  they  cannot  be  such  barbarians  in  this  country 
as  to  live  without  bells  in  their  houses  ;"  and  again  she 
searched  about  the  room,  but  to  as  little  purpose  as 
before.  "  What  shall  I  do  ?"  she  continued  ;  "  how 
am  1  to  make  the  wretches  know  that  I  want  them  ?" 

"  Your  papa  will  be  up  to  look  after  us  before  long, 
I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton  ;  "  and  he  will 
go  and  find  a  chambermaid  for  you." 

"  And  must  I  sit  with  my  hands  before  me  waiting, 
first,  till  papa  comes,  and  then  till  a  chambermaid 
chooses  to  make  her  appearance  ?" 

"  What  else  can  you  do,  my  dear?"  asked  her 
mother. 

"  I  will  put  on  my  frock  as  it  is,  and  go  in  search 
of  one  myself !" 

"  You  had  better  wait,  my  dear  Augusta,"  said  Mrs. 
Monkton,  in  a  gently  remonstrating  tone  ;  but  Augusta 
was  too  self-willed  to  follow  her  mother's  advice, 
and  she  therefore  hurried  on  her  frock  and  left  the 
room. 

"  Tell  a  chambermaid  to  come  to  me  directly,"  said 
she,  in  a  very  unceremonious  tone  of  voice,  to  the  first 
person  she  saw,  that  looked  like  a  part  of  the  family. 
The  person  she  accosted  was  a  young  girl,  a  few  years 
older  than  herself,  but  she  only  looked  at  Augusta  with 
an  expression  of  wonder,  and  then  proceeded  to  de- 
scend the  stairs. 

"  Do  you  not  belong  to  the  house  ?"  asked  Augusta, 
following  her  a  few  steps  down. 


60  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  Yes !"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"  Then  why  do  you  not  answer,  and  say  that  you 

will  do  as  I  desire  ?     I  tell  you,  I  want  you  to  send  a 

chambermaid  to  me  immediately."     The  girl   again 

raised  her  eyes  to  Augusta's  face,  with  an  expression 

of  quite  as  much  contempt  as   was  expressed  by  Au- 

j  gusta  herself,  and  then  hastened  down  stairs.     This 

j  cold   contemptuous  disregard  to    her  orders    was   so 

'  new  to  the  heiress  of  Monkton  Park,  that  it  deprived 

her  entirely  of  the  little  self-command  of  which  she 

was  ever  mistress  ;  and  she  flew  down  stairs  after  the 

object  of  her  displeasure,  regardless  of  the  state  of  her 

dress,  and  of  every  thing  except  her  determination  to 

exact  obedience  ;  but  before  she  reached  the  entry, 

the    girl   she  pursued  had  disappeared,  and  Augusta 

stood  considering  which  of  the  various  doors  before 

her  she  should  open  to  look  for  her. 

"  Open  that  ere  door,  straight  afore  you,"  said  a  far- 
mer-looking man,  who  stood  in  the  entry  as  if  waiting 
for  something,  and  who  seemed  to  understand  Au- 
gusta's perplexity.  Augusta  looked  at  him  as  he  spoke, 
but  without  its  once  entering  her  head  that  he  addressed 
herself,  she  turned  and  opened  a  door  on  her  left,  but 
closed  it  again  instantly,  on  finding  it  to  lead  to  a  room 
where  a  number  of  gentlemen  were  dining.  "  I  say, 
young  gal,  that  there  door  facing  you  is  the  one  that 
leads  to  the  kitchen,  where  I  reckon  you  want  to  be." 
Still  having  no  idea  that  the  man  could  be  addressing 
her  in  that  familiar  tone  of  voice,  she  looked  round 
to  see  where  the  person  was  to  whom  he  spoke,  hop- 
ing that  it  might  prove  to  be  some  one  who  would 
answer  her  purpose.  "  What  do  you  stare  about  that 
way  for,  gal?"  continued  the  farmer;  "I  reckon  you 


THE   TWO   SCHOOLS.  61 

want  to  see  some  of  the  people  of  the  house,  and  I  tell 
you  that's  the  way  to  go  to  find  them." 

"  Are  you  speaking  to  me  ?"  asked  Augusta,  in  a 
tone  of  extreme  surprise,  as  the  idea  for  the  first  time 
entered  her  head  that  this  familiar  address  was  made 
to  herself. 

"  Certainly  I  am,  who  else  could  I  be  speaking  to, 
seeing  that  there  is  nobody  but  yourself  for  me  to 
speak  to." 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  be  spoken  to  in  such  a 
style,  and  therefore  did  not  imagine  that  it  was  I  whom 
you  addressed." 

"  And  pray  how  may  you  have  been  used  to  be 
spoken  to  ?  I  guess  you  speak  English  in  your  country." 

"  I  have  always  been  spoken  to  as  Miss  Monkton, 
of  Monkton  Park ;  but  as  you  do  not  seem  to  under- 
stand how  that  is,  I  must  beg  that  I  may  have  no  more 
of  your  conversation."  • 

A  loud  laugh  of  mingled  contempt  and  ridicule, 
which  was  here  set  up,  excited  Augusta's  indignation 
to  such  a  degree  that  her  face  became  perfectly  scarlet, 
and  she  appeared  almost  burstingcwith  rage,  when  her 
father  and  Mr.  Ellmore  entered  the  front  door. 

."  Augusta,  my  dear,  Wnat  is  the  matter  ?"  exclaim- 
ed Mr.  Monkton,  who  immediately  saw  the  state  of 
excitement  that  his  daughter  was  in. 

"  This  man  has  been  treating  me  in  the  most  insult- 
ing manner,"  replied  Augusta,  as  plainly  as  her  agita- 
tion would  permit  her  to  speak.  Mr.  Monkton  turned 
to  the  farmer  with  a  look  of  fury,  but  could  not  help 
feeling  convinced,  from  the  man's  quiet  and  composed 
expression  of  countenance,  that  there  must  be  some 
mistake  about  the  supposed  insult. 
F 


62  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

**  How  is  this,  sir,"  said  he,  "  have  you  dared  to 
insult  this  young  lady,  my  daughter  ?" 

"  What,  is  this  gal  your  daughter  ?  then  I  would 
advise  you  to  learn  her  a  little  more  sense  than  to  fancy 
that  people  insult  her,  when  they  are  only  meaning 
to  do  her  a  civil  turn." 

"  Papa,"  interrupted  Augusta,  "  he  spoke  to  me  as 
if  he  were  my  equal,  and  then  laughed  at  me  for  being 
offended." 

"  To  be  sure  I  did  ! — why  shouldn't  I  ? — why 
shouldn't  I  think  myself  your  equal.  I  guess  I'm  as 
good  as  you,  and  it  may  be  better.  But  that  I  don't 
pretend  to  say  ;  and  as  to  rudeness,  I  seen  you  was  at 
a  loss  which  door  to  open,  and  I  told  you  to  open  that, 
and  if  that  be  rudeness  in  your  country,  why  it's 
politeness  in  ours,  and  there's  the  difference." 

"  The  mistake  has  arisen  from  the  young  lady's 
not  being  accustomed  to  the  manners  of  this  country," 
interposed  Mr.  Ellmore.  "  When  you  have  lived  a 
little  longer  amongst  us,  my  young  friend,  you  will 
find  that  the  difference  between  us  and  the  people  of 
your  own  country  lies  chiefly  in  manner ;  and  that 
though  we  do  not  always  show  our  respect  in  the  way 
that  you  have  been  accustomed  to,  we  really  mean  the 
same.  You  will  know  us  better  by-and-by,  and  like 
us  better  too,  I  hope." 

"  And  I  hope,"  returned  Augusta,  haughtily,  "  that 
my  stay  in  the  country  will  be  too  short  for  me  to 
cease  to  be  a  stranger  in  it." 

"  But  what  is  the  reason  of  my  finding  you  here, 
Augusta,"  asked  her  father,  desirous  of  turning  the 
conversation  \  "  and  especially  with  your  dress  in  such 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  63 

a  state  ?"  he  added,  looking  at  the  mud  on  his  daugh- 
ter's frock. 

"  Because,  papa,  I  wanted  a  chambermaid,  and  the 
people  in  this  country  are  such  barbarians  as  not  to 
have  bells  in  their  rooms  !" 

"  You  are  not  the  first  traveller,  my  young  lady, 
who  has  pronounced  general  censures  upon  our  coun- 
try on  the  authority  of  individual  instances  ;  it  would 
be  well  if  those  who  have  committed  the  same  error, 
had  the  same  degree  of  youth  and  inexperience  to  plead 
as  their  excuse." 

"  Return  to  your  chamber,  my  dear,"  said  Mr. 
Monkton,  who  was  anxious  to  put  a  stop  to  the  con- 
versation before  his  daughter  committed  any  further 
violence  on  the  feelings  of  those  from  whom  she  had, 
in  fact,  received  very  kind  attention  ;  "  and  I  will  send 
a  servant  to  you  immediately." 

Augusta  did  as  she  was  desired,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  a  chambermaid  tapped  at  the  door,  when  Au- 
gusta gave  her  the  frock  with  instructions  about  clean- 
ing it.  The  girl  took  it  with  a  sullen  and  ungracious 
look,  and  returned  Avith  it  in  a  very  few  minutes.  "  I 
told  you  to  sponge  it  well,  and  then  iron  it  over,"  said 
Augusta,  as  the  girl  held  the  frock  out  to  her. 

"  And  so  I  did,  miss,"  returned  the  chambermaid, 
sullenly. 

"  Then  you  may  just  take  it  back,  and  do  it  over 
again  !" 

"  Indeed,  miss,  I  can't  make  it  any  better,  so  it's  no 
use  taking  it  ?" 

"  I  order  you  to  take  it  immediately,  and  make  it  so 
that  I  can  wear  it,"  said  Augusta,  in  a  haughty  and 
commanding  tone. 


64  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  You  may  give  your  orders  to  those  who  are  obliged 
to  obey  them,"  said  the  girl,  throwing  the  frock  upon 
the  bed,  and  hastening  to  the  door  ;  "  but  that's  not 
me,  and  especially  on  this  day  !" 

"  My  good  girl,"  interposed  Mrs.  Monkton,  "  my 
daughter  did  not  mean  to  offend  your  feelings,  by 
what  she  said  ;  but  she  is  a  stranger  in  the  country, 
and  of  course  unaccustomed  to  the  manners  of  it." 

"  I  always  thought  civility  was  expected  in  every 
country,"  muttered  the  girl. 

"  And  so  it  is,  and  ought  to  be  ;  and  I  hope,  my  good 
girl,  you  will  show  yours  by  taking  the  frock  down 
and  trying  to  clean  it  better."  "  ,  • 

"  I  have  very  little  time  to  spare,"  answered  the 
maid,  opening  the  door  as  she  spoke,  "  for  I  am  going 
out  with  a  large  party ;  and  besides,  I  have  very  little 
mind  to  do  any  thing  for  people  that  do  not  speak  to 
me  in  a  respectful  manner." 

"Then  you  will,  perhaps,  doit  for  me,"  remonstrat- 
ed Mrs.  Monkton ;  "  you  will  oblige  me,  I  am  sure  !" 

"  Well !  I  will  try  if  I  can  make  it  any  better  ;  but  I 
have  not  much  time  to  spare  for  it."  The  girl  then 
took  the  dress  down  again,  and  before  long  brought  it 
back,  perfectly  clean  and  neatly  ironed.  - 

"  It  is  very  nice  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton,  as 
she  took  the  frock  out  of  her  hand ;  "  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"  I  declare,  mamma,  I  do  not  know  what  you  are 
thinking  of  ;  to  beg  favours  of  servants,  and  make  your 
acknowledgments  for  their  doing  their  duty,  as  if  they 
were  your  equals  ;  it  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever 
heard  of!" 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  65 

"  An  old  friend  of  mine,  Augusta,  used  to  say,  '  It 
was  always  a  good  thing  to  practise  civility,  for  it  costs 
nothing,  and  often  gains  a  great  deal.'  " 

"  I  hope  I  shall  not  have  to  remain  long  in  this  hate- 
ful country,"  sighed  Augusta,  as  she  commenced 
dressing. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  in  viewing  the  town, 
and  in  some  pleasant  rides  about  the  neighbourhood, 
especially  along  the  banks  of  the  Brandywine  ;  when 
Augusta  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that,  whatever  she 
might  think  of  the  people,  as  far  as  she  had  seen  them, 
the  face  of  nature  was  grand  and  beautiful. 


p2 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  WARM  bright  sun  roused  Augusta  very  early  the 
following  morning,  and  she  was  not  long  of  prevailing 
upon  her  father  and  mother  to  rise  and  go  with  her  to 
take  a  walk  while  it  was  cool  enough  to  allow  them  to 
have  pleasure  in  the  exercise.  Though  in  many  re- 
spects spoiled,  Augusta's  taste  with  regard  to  the 
beauties  of  natural  scenery  was  altogether  unsophisti- 
cated, and  she  therefore  immediately  led  the  way  to- 
wards the  ascending  ground,  that  they  might  once  more 
admire  the  view  which  it  commanded,  of  the  long  reach 
of  river,  and  the  windings  of  the  creek.  In  going 
however  across  one  of  the  back  streets,  her  eye  caught 
a  glance  of  the  black  dresses  of  some  Sisters  of  Charity. 
"  O  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  there  are  some  Sisters  of  Cha- 
rity ;  do  let  us  hasten  on,  papa,  and  overtake  them,  and 
see  if  they  are  our  interesting  friends."  The  wish,  as 
usual,  was  no  sooner  expressed,  than  it  was  complied 
with  ;  but  before  they  could  succeed  in  getting  up  to 
them,  the  Sisters  had  turned  into  a  small  neat  church, 
whither  Augusta  had  little  difficulty  in  persuading  her 
father  and  mother  to  follow  them.  They  found  a  small, 
but  devout  assembly,  waiting  the  commencement  of 
mass,  and  being  very  politely  conducted  to  a  pew,  they 
sat  watching,  with  considerable  interest,  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  congregation.  The  scene  to  Augusta  was 
an  entirely  new  one,  as  she  had  never  before  been  in  a 
Catholic  place  of  worship  ;  nor  was  it  much  less  so  to 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  67 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Monkton,  who  had  but  seldom  before 
witnessed  any  thing  of  the  kind,  and  never,  when  their 
minds  were  prepared,  as  they  now  were,  to  look  with 
favourable  eyes  upon  what  they  saw.  The  unobtru- 
sive piety  of  the  Sisters,  testified  at  a  moment  when 
the  actual  existence  of  danger  was  calculated  to  prove 
the  sincerity  of  their  professions,  together  with  the 
account  that  they  had  received  from  their  steamboat 
companion  of  the  active  benevolence  of  these  admira- 
ble women,  had  impressed  them  with  sentiments  of 
respect  for  this  generally  despised  class  of  Christians, 
that  led  them  to  view  even  the  ceremonies  of  their 
mode  of  worship,  which  had  hitherto  appeared  to  them 
only  deserving  of  ridicule,  with  something  almost  bor- 
dering upon  awe.  The  clergyman  who  officiated  was 
a  remarkably  handsome  man,  and  his  dignified  but 
benevolent  countenance,  illumined  by  an  expression  of 
deep  devotion,  together  with  the  effect  of  the  intona- 
tions of  his  rich  and  musical  voice,  all  tended  to  excite 
the  feelings  of  the  strangers,  in  a  manner  that  had 
never  before  been  experienced  by  them.  The  effect  on 
Mrs.  Monkton's  mind  was  particularly  powerful,  and 
when  in  addition  to  the  other  objects  of  interest,  Au- 
gusta directed  her  attention  to  the  beautiful  and  grace- 
ful form  of  a  young  girl  in  the  next  pew  to  them,  as 
she  knelt  in  pious  devotion,  while  her  whole  soul 
appeared  absorbed  in  the  acts  she  was  performing,  and 
the  thrilling  conviction  that  the  humble  being  before 
her,  though  evidently  from  her  style  of  dress  be- 
longing to  the  humble  walks  of  life,  was  possessed  of 
a  treasure  far  exceeding  in  value  all  the  wealth  to  which 
her  own  child  was  heiress  ;  the  big  tears  rolled  down 
her  cheeks,  and  almost  instinctively  she  found  her- 


68  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

self  sinking  on  her  knees,  and  offering  up  her  prayers 
to  the  great  Father  of  all,  in  behalf  of  the  object  of  her 
maternal  solicitude. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  so  much  grace  and  elegance  in  a 
form  in  your  life,  mamma,"  whispered  Augusta,  "  as 
there  is  in  that  before  us  ?  Only  look  at  those  beauti- 
ful hands,  and  those  rich  tresses.  How  I  long  to  see 
her,  face.  I  wish  she  would  turn  round  ;  but  her  mind 
seems  entirely  absorbed.  And  how  neatly  simple  her 
dress  is.  Is  she  not  an  interesting  creature?" 

Augusta  had  been  too  earnest  in  her  expressions  of 
admiration  to  notice  her  mother's  frequent  hints  to  be 
silent,  till  at  length  a  rather  more  audible  "  hush"  re- 
called her  to  a  recollection  of  where  she  was,  and  put 
an  end,  for  the  present,  to  any  further  remarks. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  mass,  Augusta  intimated  to 
her  father  and  mother  that  she  wished  to  remain  in  the 
pew  till  the  interesting  object  before  them  should  rise 
from  her  kneeling  posture,  as  she  was  exceedingly 
anxious  to  get  a  sight  of  her  face ;  but  her  father  ob- 
serving, that  by  remaining,  they  would  keep  an  old 
lady  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  pew  a  prisoner ;  he 
proposed  that  they  should  go  into  the  churchyard,  and 
occupy  themselves  in  looking  at  the  gravestones,  till 
the  object  of  their  curiosity  should  come  out.  While 

thus  employed,  Mr.  X ,  the  clergyman  who  had 

performed  mass,  advanced  towards  them,  and  accosting 
Mr.  Monkton  with  great  politeness  and  cordiality, 
informed  him  that  he  had  heard  of  him  and  his  family 
from  the  Sisters,  who  had  been  in  the  boat  with  them 
the  preceding  day,  and  expressed  a  wish  to  conduce  in 
any  way  in  his  power  to  their  pleasure  during  their 
stay  in  Wilmington. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  69 

Mr.  Monkton  received  his  politeness  with  his  usual 
frankness  and  gentleman-like  cordiality ;  and  an  ani- 
mated conversation  ensued,  which  was  only  interrupted 
by  Augusta's  exclaiming,  "  O,  look !  look,  mamma ; 
there  is  that  sweet  girl  kneeling  at  a  grave.  What  can 
she  be  doing?" 

"  You,  indeed,  use  a  correct  epithet,  when  you  say 
siveet  girl,"  said  the  clergyman  ;  "  for  that  is  one  of 
the  loveliest  beings  that  I  ever  had  the  happiness  of 
being  acquainted  with." 

"But  why  is  she  kneeling  there,  on  that  damp 
ground  ?"  again  asked  Augusta. 

"That  is  her  father's  grave,"  replied  Mr.  X , 

"  and  she  is  offering  up  her  prayers  for  the  repose  of 
his  soul." 

Notwithstanding  the  strong  interest  that  the  graceful 
young  creature  had  excited  in  Augusta's  mind,  she 
could  not  repress  a  smile,  almost  amounting  to  a 
sneer,  on  hearing  these  words  ;  and  she  said,  in  a  tone 
corresponding  with  the  expression  of  her  counte- 
nance, "And  is  it  possible  she  can  imagine  that  any 
prayers  of  hers  can  influence  the  judgments  of  the 
Almighty  ?" 

"If  you  recollect,  we  often  find  in  the  Scriptures, 
that  the  churches  are  frequently  called  upon  to  pray 
for  the  suffering,  dying,  or  dead  members ;  which 
would  certainly  not  be  done,  unless  there  was  efficacy 
in  those  prayers." 

"  But  suppose  the  prayers  of  the  saints  to  prevail, 
that  is  no  reason  that  the  prayers  of  a  young  girl  like 
that  could  have  any  influence." 

"  Do  you  think,  my  young  lady,  that  if  I  wished  to 
obtain  any  favour  of  your  parents,  I  could  use  a  more 


70  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

effectual  mode  of  accomplishing  my  object  than  by 
engaging  you  to  intercede  for  me  ?" 

Augusta  smiled,  and  her  eyes  acknowledged  her 
consciousness,  that  she  would  be  a  powerful  mediator. 

"  Why  then  should  we  not  believe  that  the  tenderest 
and  kindest  of  all  parents  should  be  induced  to  lend  a 
gracious  ear  to  the  petitions  of  his  favourite  children  ? 
Our  faith  teaches  us"  to  believe  this,  and  on  the  strength 
of  this  conviction  this  girl's  father,  who  died  of  the 
cholera,  at  a  short  distance  from  this  place,  last  sum- 
mer, left  it  with  me  as  his  last  request  to  his  daughter, 
that  she  would  offer  up  her  prayers  every  day,  for 
twelve  months,  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  This,  I  dare 
venture  to  say,  she  has  faithfully  performed ;  but  not 
satisfied  with  that  only,  she  has  been  working  most 
laboriously  ever  since  her  father's  death,  for  the  sake 
of  saving  money  enough  to  enable  her  to  make  a  sort 
of  pilgrimage  from  Baltimore,  which  is  her  place  of 
residence,  and  have  the  gratification  of  kneeling  at  his 
grave,  and  offering  up  her  prayers  on  the  spot  which 
contains  his  remains.  And  here,  on  some  part  or 
other  of  every  day,  whatever  may  be  the  state  of  the 
weather,  this  pious  daughter  may  be  seen  kneeling  at 
that  grave,  and  watering  it  with  her  tears." 

"  How  beautiful !"  cried  Mrs.  Monkton,  her  own 
eyes  swimming  with  tears  as  she  spoke  ;  "  this  is  the 
poetry  of  religion." 

"  It  is  religion  itself,  my  dear  madam,"  replied  the 
clergyman;  "  for  religion  consists  of  all  that  is  grand, 
sublime,  and  beautiful." 

"  Has  she  a  mother  ?"  asked  Augusta,  speaking  of 
the  pious  girl  as  if  the  conversation  had  never  been 
diverted  from  her. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS,  71 

"  She  has  a  mother ;  but  unfortunately  one  of  such 
a  character  as  to  call  all  her  principles  of  religious  sub- 
mission and  patience  into  constant  exercise.  Her 
father  was  a  worthy  and  pious  man,  and  a  most  affec- 
tionate father ;  and  while  he  lived,  poor  Mary  had 
many  comforts  to  which  she  is  now  a  stranger. 

"  O,  how  I  should  like  to  supply  his  place,"  ex- 
claimed Augusta ;  "  and O,  mamma,  she  is  gone," 

continued  the  ardent  girl,  as  she  turned  her  eyes 
towards  the  spot  where  she  expected  the  interesting 
Mary  still  knelt,  and  found,  that  while  they  had  been 
listening  to  the  clergyman,  she  had  finished  her  pray- 
ers and  left  the  churchyard.  "  She  is  gone,  and  I 
have  not  been  able  to  get  a  sight  of  her  face  after  all, 
and  I  wished  so  much  to  see  it." 

"  You  would  have  seen  lineaments  worthy  of  the 
beautiful  spirit  within,"  said  the  clergyman,  with 
animation  ;  "  and,  indeed,  you  may  still  have  the  plea- 
sure of  becoming  acquainted  with  them,  for  it  will  give 
me  much  gratification  to  take  you  to  see  our  institu- 
tion for  orphan  children,  under  the  management  of  the 
Sisters  of  Charity.  Mary  M'Donnel,  the  young  crea- 
ture about  whom  you  have  become  so  much  interested, 
was  educated  by  one  of  those  Sisters  that  is  residing 
here  at  present,  and  who  became  so  much  attached  to 
her,  that,  though  she  has  for  two  years  been  almost 
constantly  separated  from  her,  she  has  kept  up  a  con- 
stant correspondence  with  her;  and  knowing  that  it 
was  so  much  poor  Mary's  wish  to  visit  Wilmington, 
sent  her  an  invitation  to  pay  her  a  visit.  This  served 
to  facilitate  the  completion  of  the  poor  girl's  pious  wish 
to  visit  the  grave  of  her  father,  whose  loss  she  has 


72  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

mourned  with  the  deepest  and  most  heartfelt  sor- 
row." 

"  We  shall  be  much  gratified  by  going  with  you  to 
pay  so  interesting  a  visit,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton. 

"  When  can  we  go  ?"  asked  Augusta.  "  I  hope 
you  can  go  with  us  soon,  sir,"  added  she ;  looking,  as 

she  spoke,  at  Mr.  X ,  with  an  expression  of  ardour 

and  benevolence  that  made  him  fix  his  eyes  upon  her 
with  a  look  of  great  interest,  as  he  said, 

"  As  soon  as  you  please  after  nine  o'clock.  I  have 
a  few  duties  to  perform  before  that  time,  but  will  call 
upon  you  after,  at  any  hour  you  may  choose  to  ap- 
point." 

"  At  ten,  then,  sir,  we  shall  be  in  waiting  for  you," 
said  Mr.  Monkton ;  and  this  arrangement  being  made, 

they  took  leave  of  Mr.  X for  the  present,  and 

returned  to  the  hotel. 

Naturally  ardent  and  impatient,  and  but  little  in  the 
habit  at  any  time  of  restraining  her  feelings,  Augusta, 
as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  seated  herself  at  the 
window  to  watch  for  the  pious  clergyman,  who  came 
punctually  at  the  time  appointed.  But  on  arriving  at 
the  asylum,  a  great  disappointment  awaited  her;  for 
they  were  told  that  Mary,  on  her  return  from  mass, 
had  found  a  messenger  from  her  mother,  waiting  for 
her,  who  brought  her  an  authoritative  mandate  from 
her  parent,  to  return  home  by  the  very  first  boat  that 
should  leave  Wilmington  after  she  received  her  mes- 
sage ;  and  that  Mary  was  too  much  in  the  habit  of  impli- 
cit obedience,  to  wait,  even  to  take  leave  of  her  spiritual 
friend,  the  clergyman,  but  had  departed  within  an  hour 
of  her  having  received  her  mother's  message. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  '    73 

"  O,  how  sorry  I  am  that  she  is  gone,"  exclaimed 
Augusta ;  "  I  never  saw  any  one  in  my  life  that  I 
wished  so  much  to  be  acquainted  with ;  and  now  all 
chance  of  it  is  gone." 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Monkton  ;  "  the 
father  of  my  wards  lived  at  Baltimore,  so  that  it  is 
highly  probable  that  my  duties  will  soon  take  me  there. 
But  even  if  that  were  not  the  case,  we  would  go  on 
purpose ;  and  some  of  our  friends  here  will,  I  doubt 
not,  furnish  us  with  an  introduction  to  the  interesting 
Mary." 

"  I  must  beg  leave  to  have  that  pleasure,"  said  one  of 
the  Sisters.  "  No  one,  I  believe,  has  more  interest  with 
Mary  than  myself;  and  I  am  sure,  though  she  has  a  great 
repugnance  to  meeting  with  strangers,  any  one  whom 
I  may  introduce  to  her  will  be  received  as  a  friend." 

"Are  you  the  lady  that  educated  her?"  asked 
Augusta. 

"  I  am,"  said  the  sister  ;  "  and  shall  always  consider 
it  a  subject  of  thankfulness  that  I  was  permitted  to  be 
instrumental  in  forming  such  a  pattern  of  innocence, 
piety,  and  virtue." 

"What  are  hei  means  of  subsistence?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Monkton  ;  "  the  slenderness  of  her  form  and  the 
extreme  delicacy  of  her  hands,  do  not  seem  as  if  she 
had  ever  been  exposed  to  severe  labour." 

"  During  her  father's  life,  though  not  possessed  of 
affluence,  she  was  supplied  with  a41  that  her  moderate 
wants  required.  Her  father  was  an  honest,  industrious 
labourer,  and  had  her  mother  been  equally  disposed  to 
perform  her  duty,  Mary  might  long  ago  have  been  in 
a  very  different  situation  from  her  present  one,  for  he 
G 


7  1  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

made  it  his  constant  endeavour  to  give  his  daughter  a 
good  education ;  but  all  his  efforts  were  unfortunately 
frustrated  by  the  mother,  and  poor  Mary's  only  re- 
source was  to  take  advantage  of  the  school  belonging 
to  the  Orphan  Asylum." 

"  And  what  better  could  be  desired  for  her  than  to 
be  placed  under  your  instruction  ?"  said  Augusta,  fixing 
her  eyes  on  the  Sister's  face,  with  an  expression  of 
respect  and  admiration. 

"  To  one  of  common  talents,"  replied  the  Sister, 
with  a  graceful  bow,  "  it  might  have  been  sufficient; 
but  Mary's  were  deserving  of  higher  advantages. 
Such,  however,  as  we  were  able  to  afford  her,  she 
improved  so  much  that  it  was  not  long  before,  she 
excited  the  attention  of  some  of  the  ladies  who  were 
in  the  habit  of  visiting  our  institution,  and  one  in  par- 
ticular became  so  exceedingly  interested  in  her,  as 
to  be  induced  to  undertake  to  instruct  her  in  some  of 
the  branches  of  education  which  were  beyond  the 
limits  of  our  school.  By  this  means,  Mary  has  become 
a  very  excellent  French  scholar,  and  draws  so  beauti- 
fully, and  designs  with  so  much  taste,  that  she  now 
supports  herself  by  working  for  the  fancy  stores.  But 
all  this,"  continued  the  Sister,  with  enthusiasm,  "  is 
nothing,  in  comparison  to  the  amiable  and  unassuming 
simplicity  of  mind  which  this  sweet  girl  has  main- 
tained, amidst  all  the  admiration  that  has  been  lavished 
on  her  for  her  undeviating  integrity,  her  humble  and 
submissive  obedience  to  a  parent,  whose  conduct  is  far 
from  entitling  her  to  the  respect  of  those  around  her ; 
and  above  all,  for  her  heartfelt  and  unostentatious 
piety.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  detaining  you 
so  long  on  this  subject,  but  it  is  one  oil  which  my  feel- 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  75 

ings  are  so  much  interested,  that  I  am  apt  to  forget 
myself  when  I  enter  upon  it." 

"You  could  not  oblige  us  more  than  by  dwelling 
upon  it,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton ;  "  and  it  will  give  us  great 
pleasure  to  be  the  bearers  of  an  introduction  to  this 
interesting  young  creature." 

"  When  shall  we  go  to  Baltimore  to  see  her,  papa  ?" 
asked  Augusta.  "  Can  we  not  go  immediately  ?" 

"NoTniy  dear,  my  first  object  must  be  to  go  and 
meet  my  young  wards,  who,  I  expect,  are  already  in 
Philadelphia,  waiting  my  arrival.  But  as  soon  as  I 
have  got  them  under  my  care,  I  shall  be  ready  to  go 
where  you  please,  and  shall  be  as  happy  to  visit  Bal- 
timore, and  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  interesting 
Mary,  as  you  can  be." 

After  examining  the  institution,  and  admiring  its 
usefulness,  for  the  further  promotion  of  which  Mr. 
Monkton  left  a  very  liberal  donation,  they  took  leave 
of  the  Sisters,  especially  their  steamboat  acquaintances, 
with  many  assurances  of  good  will,  and  wishes  to  meet 

again,  and  were  conducted  by  Mr.  X back  to  their 

hotel.  As  the  packet  in  which  they  came  from  Eng- 
land had  been  seen  sailing  up  the  river,  Mr.  Monkton 
proposed  to  proceed  in  the  afternoon's  boat  to  Phila- 
delphia ;  which  was  readily  agreed  to  by  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  they  took  leave  of  Wilmington  with 
feelings  of  interest,  which  almost  erased  from  Augusta's 
mind  the  mortifications  that  had  attended  her  first 
acquaintance  with  it. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WE  must  now  beg  that  our  readers  will  turn  back 
with  us  to  a  period  nearly  two  years  previous  to  that 
of  which  we  have  hitherto  been  treating,  ami  accom- 
pany us  into  a  small  room,  designated  a  parlour,  in  a 
house  of  a  very  humble  appearance,  situated  in  one  of 
the  small  back  streets  in  Baltimore.  Here,  seated  at 
a  small  table,  busily  employed  in  copying  a  head  of 
a  Madonna  that  was  before  her,  sat  a  beautiful  girl, 
about  thirteen  years  of  age.  Her  own  face  and  form 
might  have  been  taken  as  models  for  the  figure  that 
she  was  endeavouring  to  delineate,  so  perfectly  were 
they  formed,  and  so  peculiarly  were  they  calculated  to 
present  to  the  mind  of  the  beholder  the  ideas  of  sub- 
limity, devotion,  and  resignation.  Her  dress,  though 
simple,  was  perfectly  neat,  and  there  was  an  unstudied 
elegance  in  her  whole  appearance,  that  made  it  difficult 
to  remember,  while  gazing  on  her,  that  she  had,  from 
her  situation  in  life,  no  claim  to  that  distinguished 
place  in  society  which  nature  seemed  to  have  designed 
her  to  adorn  and  dignify.  Beside  her  sat  a  woman, 
who,  as  far  as  the  shape  of  her  features  went,  might 
be  said  to  be  good-looking,  but  whose  every  trace  of 
beauty  was  destroyed  by  the  expression  which  those 
features  conveyed  to  the  minds  of  those  who  looked 
upon  her ;  for  envy,  malignity,  and  cruelty  seemed  to 
have  marked  her  for  their  own.  Her  actual  age  was 
not  yet  forty  ;  but  the  violent  passions  and  malignant 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  77 

feelings  that  rankled  in  her  mind,  had  given  a  severe 
and  hardened  expression  to  her  features,  and  an  ap- 
pearance of  age  much  beyond  her  term  of  life. 

"  Can  I  do  any  thing  for  you  before  I  go,  mother?" 
asked  her  companion,  whom,  we  presume,  our  readers 
have  conjectured  to  be  the  interesting  Mary,  to  whom 
they  have  already  been  introduced.  "  Is  there  any 
thing  that  you  wish  me  to  do  before  I  go  ?"  and  as  she 
spoke,  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the  drawing  paper,  on 
which  they  had  been  long  and  earnestly  fixed  ;  hook- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  behind  her  ears,  the  rich  auburn 
curls  that  had  hung  curtaining  her  face  as  she  bent  over 
her  drawing. 

"  Before  you  go  !  And  where  are  you  going  to, 
pray?" 

"  To  Mrs.  Linley's.  You  know  I  was  to  be  there 
by  ten  o'clock,  and  it  is  almost  that  now.  There !  it 
is  beginning  to  strike.  I  did  not  think  it  was  quite  so 
late.  But  still,  if  you  want  me  to  do  any  thing  for  you 
before  I  go,  I  would  rather  do  it ;  and  I  am  sure  Mrs. 
Linley  will  readily  excuse  my  being  a  little  after  the 
time,  when  I  have  so  good  a  reason  for  it." 

"  O,  no!  Go  away!  go  away!  I  suppose  your 
father  and  you  must  have  your  own  way  in  this,  as  you 
have  in  every  thing  else ;  but  for  my  part,  I  can  see  no 
use  in  such  things  as  are  only  fit  for  ladies,  being 
learnt  by  a  poor  girl  that  has  to  work  for  her  bread." 

"  But  suppose,  dear  mother,  the  things  that  I  am 
learning  should  enable  me  to  earn  my  bread  in  a  more 
respectable  way  than  I  could  without  them,  would  it 
not  be  a  pity  for  me  not  to  take  advantage  of  Mrs.  Lin- 
ley's  kindness  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  learn,  at  the  same  time,  to  think  your- 
G  2 


78  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

self  so  far  above  your  poor  parents  that  you  only  do 
spise  them." 

"  Dear  mother,  have  I  ever  shown  any  such  dispo 
sitions  ?"  asked  the  poor  girl,  in  a  tone  of  voice  which 
proved  how  much  her  feelings  were  hurt  at  the  unjust 
imputation. 

"  Not  your  father !  No  !  I  should  not  have  said  that 
you  despise  him.  It  is  only  me  you  despise.  I  am 
the  one  that  has  to  bear  all  your  contempt." 

"  O,  indeed,  mother,  you  ought  not  to  say  so.  You 
must  know  how  anxiously  I  try  to  please  you ;  and 
how  happy  it  would  make  me  if  you  would  only  allow 
me  to  be  kind  to  you." 

"  Yes  ;  yes  ;  I  know  well  enough  that  you  try  to  be 
kind ;  and  that  your  priest  tells  you  that  you  must  be 
dutiful  and  obedient  to  me ;  but  I  know  too  how  hard 
a  task  it  is  to  obey  him." 

"  It  is  a  hard  task,  dear  mother,  only  when  you  re- 
pulse and  drive  me  away.  You  know  sometimes  you 
will  not  even  let  me  corne  near  you." 

"  Because  I  know  that  you  hate  me." 

"Hate  you!  hate  my  mother!  O,  you  cannot 
possibly  think  me  so  wicked.  I  am  sure  you  cannot," 
continued  poor  Mary,  looking  earnestly  in  her  mother's 
face  as  she  spoke,  as  if  anxious  to  read  there  a  refuta- 
tion of  the  shocking  charge.  No  relenting  expression, 
however,  appeared ;  but,  with  the  bitterness  of  one 
whose  only  desire  seemed  to  be  to  give  pain,  she 
replied, 

"  And  why  should  you  not?  Am  not  I  poor,  igno- 
rant, and  vulgar ;  and  is  it  possible,  that  you,  who  are 
getting  to  be  an  accomplished  lady,  should  not  be 
ashamed  of  a  parent  that  is  so  far  beneath  her  ?' 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  79 

"  Mother,  my  father  can  neither  read  nor  write ; 
nor  are  his  manners  polished  by  any  thing,  except  the 
natural  kindness  and  benevolence  of  his  heart;  and 
yet  I  am  sure  you  must  acknowledge  that  I  am  proud 
of  calling  him  father." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  are  fond  enough  of  him,  because  he 
indulges  you,  and  makes  a  perfect  fool  of  you.  But  I 
am  despised  and  treated  with  contempt,  just  because  I 
try  to  keep  you  in  your  right  station,  and  prevent  your 
aiming  at  what  you  can  never  reach." 

"  All  I  aim  at,  my  dear  mother,  is  to  learn  to  provide 
for  myself,  and  to  help  my  father  and  you  to  live 
without  hard  labour,  when  you  get  too  old  for  it." 

"  And  I  wonder  how  you  would  be  so  likely  to  do 
that,  as  by  learning  a  trade,  or  by  going  out  to  ser- 
vice." 

"  Mrs.  Linley  says  she  is  sure  I  shall  very  soon  be 
able  both  to  provide  for  myself  and  to  help  you,  by 
drawing  and  painting  for  the  fancy  stores ;  and  I  am 
sure  that  will  be  a  much  pleasanter  way  of  gaining  my 
livelihood,  than  any  trade  that  I  could  learn." 

"  Yes,  and  I  fancy  George  Linley  flatters  you,  and 
tells  you  it  is  fitter  for  you,  because  it  is  more  like 
being  a  lady." 

"  George  never  flatters  me.  He  only  encourages 
me  to  make  the  best  use  of  my  time,  while  his  mother 
is  able  and  willing  to  teach  me." 

"  And  it  is  more  agreeable  to  follow  his  advice,  than 
your  poor  ignorant  mother's?" 

"  It  is  not  his  advice  only,  dear  mother,  but  my 
father's  also.  You  know  how  anxious  he  is  that  I 
should  take  advantage  of  Mrs.  Linley's  kindness." 

"  0,  yes,  he  is  always  ready  to  give  you  your  own 


80  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

way.  He  and  the  Linleys  are  doing  all  thay  can  to 
spoil  you,  and  make  a  useless  fine  lady  of  you,  instead 
of  a  hard-working  girl,  that  has  to  earn  her  bread." 

"  No,  no,  dear  mother,  you  shall  find  that  they  do 
not  spoil  me,  but  only  teach  me  to  know  my  duty,  and 
delight  to  perform  it.  But  I  must  go,  as  you  do  not 
seem  to  have  any  thing  for  me  to  do." 

"  Go,  why  you  surely  would  not  think  of  going  out 
in  this  pouring  rain  !" 

"  Nay,  mother,  take  care  lest  it  should  prove  to  be 
you  who  are  going  to  make  a  fine  lady  of  me.  You 
surely  would  not  wish  me  to  be  afraid  of  a  little 
rain." 

"  Afraid,  or  not  afraid,  you  shall  not  go  out  such  a 
day  as  this." 

"  O,  indeed  I  must,  dear  mother,"  said  the  gentle 
girl,  in  a  tone  of  great  distress  ;  "  for  I  cannot  finish 
the  piece  that  I  am  doing,  without  some  directions 
from  Mrs.  Linley." 

"  I  say  you  shall  not  go  ;,  and  if  you  do,  the  sin  of 
disobedience  will  be  upon  your  head." 

"  My  father's .  last  charge  before  he  went  to  his 
work  was,  for  me  to  take  care  not  to  be  too  late  in 
going  to  Mrs.  Linley's  ;  and  therefore,  I  should  disobey 
him  if  I  complied  with  your  wishes  ;  do  not  therefore, 
dear  mother,  think  of  detaining  me." 

"I  say  you  shall  not  go.  But  I  know  well  enough 
how  it  will  be ;  I  shall  be  despised  as  usual,  and  your 
father  obeyed." 

"  You  will  not  be  despised,  dear  mother ;  you  never 
were,  despised  by  me,"  said  the  poor  girl,  the  tears 
starting  into  her  eyes  as  she  spoke ;  "  but  when  my 
parents  give  me  contrary  orders,  and  I  must  disobey 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  81 

one  of  them,  what  resource  have  I  but  to  follow  the 
orders  of  the  one  I  think  is  right?" 

"  O,  yes,  that  is  all  very  fine  and  very  pretty.  It 
sounds  mighty  well,  no  doubt ;  but  perhaps  it  may  not 
sound  quite  so  well,  when  you  go  to  confession,  to 
have  to  say  that  you  disobeyed  your  mother." 

"  You  know,  mother,  this  is  not  the  first  time  I  have 
been  in  this  difficulty,  and  when  I  spoke  about  it  to 
the  archbishop,  and  told  him  how  I  had  acted,  he  said  I 
had  done  quite  right ;  and  therefore,  though  it  is  very 
painful  to  me  to  go  contrary  to  your  orders,  I  feel  that 
I  am  only  performing  my  duty  when  I  do  it." 

So  saying,  the  gentle  but  conscientious  girl,  who 
had  by  this  time  equipped  herself,  left  the  house  to 
proceed  to  that  of  her  benevolent  instructress.  Before 
she  had  gone  many  paces,  she  heard  the  word  'Mary' 
repeated  in  a  gentle  voice,  and  raising  her  eyes,  which 
were  still  swimming  with  tears,  she  saw  George  Linley 
by  her  side. 

"  O,  George,  why  are  you  here  ?"  said  she.  "You 
know  I  begged  you  not  to  come  and  meet  me  again, 
for  it  always  makes  my  mother  angry  when  she  hears 
of  your  coming." 

"  I  could  not  help  cdming  this  morning,  indeed, 
Mary,  for  I  knew  you  would  have  both  your  drawing- 
board  and  an  umbrella  to  carry,"  and  as  he  spoke,  he 
attempted  to  take  the  drawing-board  out  of  her  hand. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mary,  resisting  his 
endeavour,  "  but  indeed  I  would  rather  carry  it  my- 
.  self." 

"  You  surely  would  not  deprive  me  of  the  pleasure 
of  helping  you.  You  must  let  me  carry  the  board  for 
you.  Why  should  I  not  do  so?  My  father  and 


82  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

mother  both  knew  that  I  intended  to  come  and  meet 
you,  and  they  made  no  objection  to  my  doing  so ;  and 
surely  if  they  are  willing  for  me  to  gratify  myself  in 
this  way,  nobody  else  has  any  right  to  complain." 

"  Yes,  George,  there  is  one  who  will  complain;  and 
though  she  is  not  perhaps  always  quite  reasonable  in 
her  complaints,  it  is  still  my  duty  to  give  her  as  little 
cause  for  them  as  possible." 

"  But  why  does  she  complain  ?  What  has  she  to 
complain  of?  Surely  she  cannot  be  displeased  at 
seeing  you -loved  and  respected  by  all  who  know 
you." 

"  She'  is  afraid  that  my  receiving  so  much  attention 
from  my  superiors  will  make  me  vain,  and  too  proud 
to  fulfil  the  duties  of  my  humble  station." 

"  But  when  she  sees  that  it  has  not  any  effect  of  that 
kind,  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  you  are  only  made 
more  humble,  more  obedient,  more  industrious,  by  the 
kindness  of  your  friends,  and  that" — 

"  O,  stop  !"  interrupted  the  modest  girl ;  "  for  indeed 
I  am  afraid  for  myself,  when  you  use  such  flattering 
terms ;  and  I  assure  you,  my  mother  will  be  so  angry 
when  she  hears  that  you  have  come  to  meet  me,  that  I 
must  beg  at  least  that  you  will  leave  me  now." 

"  But  why  should  she  know,  Mary  ?  It  is  not 
necessary  that  you  should  tell  her." 

"  She  always  asks  me,  when  I  go  home,  if  I  have 
seen  you." 

"Butvypu  do  not  need  to  tell  her  that  I  came  on 
purpose  to  meet  you." 

"  Do  you  .  imagine  I  would  prevaricate  ?"  asked 
Mary,  turning  her  large  expressive  eye  full  upon  him, 
with  a  look  of  gentle  reproach. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  83- 

"  No ;  I  am  sure  you  would  not ;  but  though  you 
told  the  truth,  it  is  not  necessary,  perhaps,  to  tell  the 
whole  truth." 

"If  I  said  any  thing  to  mislead  her  judgment,  I 
should  consider  that  I  committed  as  great  a  sin  as  if  I 
had  told  a  direct  falsehood,"  answered  Mary,  gravely. 

"Dear  Mary,  I  see  I  was  wrong ;  forgive  me,  I  en- 
treat you,  for  having  made  the  suggestion.  I  am  not 
half  so  good  as  you  are,  Mary  ;  but  it  shall  be  my  con- 
stant endeavour  to  be  more  like  you.  Say  that  you 
forgive  me,"  he  continued  earnestly;  as  on  arriving  at 
his  father's  door  they  were  about  to  part ;  "  I  shall  be 
very  unhappy  if  you  do  not  say  you  forgive  me." 

"  It  is  not  my  forgiveness  that  you  ought  to  seek," 
replied  Mary,  with  a  gentle  smile,  that  said  his  frank 
confession  of  his  fault  had  already  propitiated  her 
offended  feelings;  "but  the  pardon  of  a  much  more 
awful  Judge." 

"  I  will  seek  that  also,"  replied  George,  as  he  waved 
an  adieu,  tind  proceeded  to  join  his  class  at  college, 
while  hi&  gentle  companion  was  shown  into  the  room 
where  his  mother  awaited  her. 

Mrs.  Linley,  on  whose  frame  the  progress  of  dis- 
ease had  made  great  ravages,  was  reclining  on  a  sofa ; 
her  cheeks  were  pale,  and  her  eyes  proved,  by  their 
languid  expression,  the  effects  of  the  fever  that  had 
been  consuming  her  through  the  previous  night.  Yet 
her  countenance  was  calm  and  even  cheerful,  and 
though  she  was  evidently  conscious  that  she  was  about 
to  withdraw,  at  the  early  age  of  six-and-thirty,  from  a 
world  that  she  had  adorned,  both  by  her  beauty  and 
her  virtues  ;  she  looked  with  placid  benignity  on  the 
contemplated  change,  and  seemed  only  anxious  to  per- 


84  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

form  all  her  duties  to  the  utmost  extent  of  her  power, 
Avhile  yet  a  sojourner  on  earth,  though  she  already 
partook  too  much  of  the  angelic  nature,  to  feel  any 
regret  at  changing  them  for  others  of  a  more  sublime 
and  lasting  description. 

As  Mary  entered  the  room,  her  patroness  held  out 
her  hand  to  her,  and  said,  with  a  benevolent  smile, 
"  You  are  a  good,  punctual  girl,  Mary.  It  is  a  plea- 
sure to  assist  any  one  who  is  so  attentive  and  anxious 
to  improve." 

"  I  should  be  very  inexcusable,"  replied  Mary,  as 
she  gave  her  hand  with  that  native  courteousness  of 
manner  which  is  the  result  of  benevolence  and  a  wish 
to  please,  *'  were  I  to  show  any  deficiency  of  atten- 
tion, when  you  are  so  kind  as  to  take  the  trouble  of 
teaching  me.  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Linley,"  continued 
the  affectionate  girl,  struck,  as  she  looked  at  the  ema- 
ciated form*of  the  invalid,  and  marked  the  extreme 
languor  of  her  whole  expression,  "  you  :do  not  seem 
strong  enough  this  morning  to  bear  any  exertion  ;  do, 
pray,  let  me  only  sit  beside  you  and  watch  you,  and 
help  you  to  what  you  want,  instead  of  taking  a  lesson." 

"  No,  my  child;  the  exertion  of -teaching  you  is  so 
trifling,  that  it  will  not  do  me  any  harm  ;  and  we  have 
so  little  time  on  our  hands,  Mary,  that  we  must  not 
lose  a  moment  we  can  help." 

Mary  raised  her  eyes  to  the  face  of  her  patroness, 
with  a  look  that  seemed  to  ask,  and  yet  to  be  afraid  to 
hear,  to  what  she  alluded. 

"  It  can  have  been  no  secret  to  you  for  long,  my 
dear,  kind-hearted  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Linley,  "  that  my 
stay  amongst  you  must  be  very  short,  and  various  symp- 
toms warn  me  that  it  is  now  rapidly  drawing  to  a  close. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  85 

Nay,  do  not  let  it  distress  you,  my  dear  child,"  con- 
tinued the  invalid,  as  the  large  tears  began  to  roll 
rapidly  down  her  pupil's  cheeks  ;  "  you,  I  am  sure,  are 
too  fully  impressed  with  the  consolations  which  religion 
affords,  not  to  be  convinced  that  the  change  to  me  will 
be  a  happy  one." 

"  0,  yes ;  I  do,  indeed,  know  it,"  said  Mary,  as 
plainly  as  her  agitation  would  permit  her  to  speak ; 
"  and  it  is  not  for  you,  my  dear  Mrs,  Linley,  that  I 
weep ;  it  is  for  those  who  are  to  endure  the  agony  of 
parting  with  such  a  friend ;  and  to  lose  the  sight  of  so 
much  goodness." 

"  The  parting  will  be  but  a  short  one  to  the  longest 
life  amongst  you,  my  dear  Mary ;  and  I  die  with  the 
delightful  hope,  that  all  those  in  whom  I  am  particu- 
larly interested  are  sincere,  and  will  continue  to  be 
faithful  followers  of  that  religion  which  has  been  the 
guide  of  my  life,  and  is  now  the  support  of  my  dying 
moments.  My  little  Louisa  is  the  only  one  for  whom 
I  have  any  great  anxiety ;  and  her,  Mary,  I  commend 
particularly  to  your  care,  and  hope  you  will  do  all  in 
your  power  to  inspire  her  with  religious  feelings.  Our 
peculiar  opinions  on  the  subject  of  religion  differ ;  but 
I  give  you  leave  even  to  make  a  Catholic  of  her,  Mary, 
provided  you  only  make  her  a  good  and  pious  girl  at 
the  same  time." 

"  O,  Mrs.  Linley,  how  can  you  think  of  talking  to  a 
poor  girl  like  me,  of  superintending  the  education  of 
your  daughter  ?" 

"  I  am  far  from  meaning  to  flatter  you,  Mary,  at 

such  a  time  as  the  present  especially ;  but  I  will  say 

that  I  never  knew  any  one  whom  I  would  so  much  de 

sire  that  my  child  should  resemble ;  and  had  my  life 

H 


86  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

been  spared,  it  would  have  been  ray  care  to  put  her  in 
the  way  of  copying  from  such  a  model  as  much  as 
possible.  But  things  are  about  to  be  changed,  and  I 
fear  there  will  be  nothing  for  my  poor  Louisa,  but  to 
be  sent  to  a  boarding-school." 

"  Let  her  be  sent  to  Emmetsburg,  then,  dear  Mrs. 
Linley ;  for  there  she  will  be  under  the  care  of  that 
holy  woman  to  whom  I  owe  so  much  ;  and  who  made 
me  what  I  was,  when  you  so  kindly  began  to  take 
notice  of  me."  Here  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Linley's 
medical  attendant  put  a  stop  to  the  conversation  ;  and 
before  Mary  was  again  called  into  the  room,  the  time 
usually  allotted  to  her  lesson  was  expired,  and  she 
began  to  prepare  for  her  return  home. 

"  Do  not  go  yet,  Mary,"  said  the  invalid ;  "  for 
though  the  doctor  objects  to  my  exerting  myself  to  teach 
you  this  morning,  it  is  always  a  pleasure  to  me  to- 
have  you  with  me,  and  besides  I  promised  George  to 
keep  you  till  he  returned  from  college,  that  he  might 
assist  you  in  your  return."  This,  however,  was  what 
Mary  wished  particularly  to  avoid,  for  though  it  was 
always  gratifying  to  her  to  receive  his  kind  attentions, 
she  knew  it  was  of  all  others  the  thing  that  most  ex- 
cited her  mother's  displeasure,  and  she  was  at  all  times 
willing  to  give  up  her  own  inclinations  for  the  sake  of 
keeping  her  unhappy  parent's  temper  in  a  state  of  com- 
parative composure.  She  therefore  pleaded  a  necessity 
for  her  return ;  but  her  temper  was  too  open,  her  mind 
too  free  from  every  species  of  disguise,  to  allow  her  to 
do  this  without  the  motive  being  immediately  disco- 
vered by  her  kind  and  discerning  friend,  who  said, 
taking  her  hand  affectionately  as  she  spoke,  "  I  see 
the  necessity,  Mary,  which  urges  you,  and  only  ad- 


,  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  8T 

mire  you  the  more,  my  child,  for  feeling  it  ;  let  me, 
however,  take  this  opportunity  of  assuring  you,  lest  a 
better  should  never  be  afforded  me,  that  however  others 
may  object  to  the  intimacy  that  has  taken  place  be- 
tween George  arid  yourself,  his  father  and  I  do  not 
disapprove  of  it.  George,  though  possessed  of  the  most 
amiable  dispositions  that  a  parent  can  desire,  is  of  an 
impetuous  and  self-willed  temper,  and  it  has  been  high- 
ly pleasing  to  Mr.  Linley  and  myself  to  see  the  soften- 
ing influence  which  your  gentle  and  enduring  spirit  has 
already  had  over  him.  Your  example  has  led  him  to 
make  efforts  to  overcome  his  prevailing  faults,  that 
nothing  else  could  do ;  and  has  made  him  much  more 
alive  to  his  religious  duties  than  he  ever  was  before. 
Be  assured  therefore,  my  dear  girl,  that  as  nothing  is 
so  dear  to  us  as  the  moral  and  religious  improvements 
of  our  children,  it  is  highly  gratifying  to  us  to  see  them 
possessed  of  such  a  friend  as  yourself ;  as  the  eldest 
of  my  children,  Georges'  character  and  manners  are  of 
the  utmost  importance,  and  I  hope  Louisa  will  natu- 
rally fall  into  the  same  habits  and  principles  that  she 
sees  adopted  by  her  brother.  But  I  see  I  distress  you 
by  thus  detaining  you,"  continued  Mrs.  Linley,  as  she 
noticed,  at  the  sound  of  a  footstep  near  the  room  door 
that  Mary  turned  her  head  with  a  look  of  anxious  in- 
quiry to  see  who  was  about  to  enter,  and  seemed  evi- 
dently relieved  by  finding  that  it  was  only  the  nurse 
who  was  in  attendance  on  the  invalid  ;  "  I  will  de- 
tain you  no  longer  ;  kiss  me,  Mary,  and  farewell  till 
we  meet  again."  Mary,  with  streaming  eyes,  and  an 
aching  yet  palpitating  heart,  stooped  down,  and  em- 
bracing her  benefactress  with  affectionate  fervour,  left 
the  room-;  thankful  to  have  made  her  escape  before 
George's  return. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS, 


CHAPTER  X. 

AFTER  a  similar  struggle  and  contest  with  her  un 
happy  mother,  as  that  of  the  last  and  each  preceding 
day,  when  going  on  the  same  errand,  Mary  was  just 
setting  out  the  next  morning  on  her  usual  visit  to  Mrs. 
Linley,  when  her  father  met  her  at  the  door  with  an 
expression  of  countenance  which  immediately  excited 
his  daughter's  fears. 

"Father!  dear  father!  what  is  the  matter?"  ex- 
claimed Mary,  in  a  tone  of  great  alarm,  "  has  any 
thing  happened  ?" 

"  Yes,  child,"  replied  the  father,  "  there  has,  indeed, 
something  happened ;  Mrs.  Linley  is  dead." 

Mary  uttered  a  shriek  of  agony,  and  seating  herself 
on  the  first  seat  she  came  to,  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  ;  but  scarcely  had  she  done  so,  when  she  took 
them  away  again,  and  fixed  her  eyes,  with  horror  and 
astonishment,  on  her  mother's  face,  on  hearing  her 
utter,  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible,  the  words  "  Thank 
God !" 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  wife,"  said  the  husband,  with  a 
look  of  stern  displeasure,  "  I  have  borne  with  your 
faults  as  patiently,  I  believe,  as  any  husband  could 
do ;  but  I  will  never  submit  to  have  my  ears  insulted 
with  such  language  as  that.  I  will  never  stand  by  and 
witness  your  commission  of  a  crime  of  such  black 
ingratitude,  as  it  is  to  rejoice  at  the  death  of  your 
child's  friend  and  benefactress." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  89 

"  O,  surely  if  Mary  and  you  are  as  good  Catholics 
as  you  pretend  to  be,"  said  the  woman,  in  a  sneering 
and  contemptuous  tone,  "  you  ought  yourselves  to 
rejoice  that  she  is  gone  to  heaven." 

"  As  far  as  she  is  concerned  we  may  and  do  rejoice 
at  her  happy  change  ;  but  is  it  possible  that  Mary  can 
do  otherwise  than  grieve  at  the  loss  of  such  a  friend 
as  Mrs.  Linley  has  been  to  her  1  or  can  I  be  otherwise 
than  troubled,  to  think  that  my  child  has  lost  the  best 
friend  she  had  in  this  world  ?" 

"  It  is  a  strange  thing,  Aleck,  that  you  should  talk 
in  that  way,  when  the  girl  has  both  a  father  and  a 
mother  living." 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  I  am  afraid  there  is  but  little 
account  to  be  made  of  us.  As  to  myself,  though  I 
love  her  as  much  as  a  father  can  love  a  child,  and  am 
as  proud  of  her  too,  yet  I  am  a  poor  ignorant  man,  and 
can  do  little  for  her  further  than  just  supplying  her 
with  bare  meat  and  clothing." 

-  "  Do  not  say  so,  my  darling  father,"  cried  Mary, 
throwing  her  arms  round  her  father's  neck,  and  sobbing 
on  his  bosom ;  "  you  have  ever  been  one  of  the  best 
and  tenderest  of  parents.  You  have  encouraged  me, 
by  your  advice,  to  seek  the  paths  of  virtue ;  and  led 
me  to  them  by  your  example.  You  have  always  been 
affectionate,  always  indulgent ;  and  I  will  make  it  the 
study  of  my  life  to  repay  your  kindness." 

"  Yes  !  yes  !  go  on  nattering  one  another.  You  are 
always  ready  enough  at  doing  that ;  but  as  to  me,  I  am 
no  more  looked  upon  by  you  than  if  I  was  a  dog." 

"  And  what  is  the  reason  of  that,  Sally?"  returned 
the  husband,  as  he  stood  with  his  arm  clasped  round 
the  waist  of  his  weeping  daughter,  whose  head  still 
H  2 


90  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

reclined  on  his  shoulder,  "  but  only  because  you  will 
not  let  anybody  be  kind  to  you.  I  am  sure  nobody  can 
strive  harder  than  this  poor  girl  has  done,  all  her  life, 
to  soften  your  heart  towards  her,  but  it  has  appeared 
to  me  that  the  harder  she  tried  to  gain  your  affection, 
the  more  your  heart  was  always  set  against  her.  And 
now,  when  she  has  come  to  such  a  loss,  instead  of 
trying  to  comfort  her,  you  even  rejoice  at  her  misfor- 
tune. But  Mary,"  he  continued,  clasping  his  daughter 
with  increased  tenderness  to  his  bosom,  "  you  have  a 
father  who  will  do  all  he  can  to  make  you  happy  ;  and 
above  all,  you  have  a  Father  and  Friend  in  heaven 
•who  will  never  forsake  you.  Trust  in  him,  my  poor 
girl,  and  he  will  support  you  under  every  trial." 

So  saying,  he  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  returned 
to  his  work,  which  he  had  only  left  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  her  the  sad  tidings ;  and  left  the  weeping 
girl  to  mourn  over  her  loss  in  deep  but  uncomplaining 
sorrow.  In  the  midst  of  her  grief,  however,  one  sweet, 
consoling  idea  was  yet  allowed  to  visit  her  mind ;  the 
last  words  that  she  had  heard  her  sainted  friend  utter, 
were  those  of  the  most  unbounded  affection,  esteem, 
and  confidence  towards  herself;  she  had  intrusted  to 
her  a  sacred  charge,  and  though  she  might  be  able  to 
do  but  little  towards  fulfilling  it,  the  circumstance  of 
having  such  an  object  in  view,  as  that  of  endeavouring 
to  perform  a  duty  imposed  on  her  by  such  a  friend, 
would  be  a  comfort  and  consolation  in  the  midst  of  her 
sorrows. 

A  long  and  melancholy  train  of  mourners  attended 
the  remains  of  Mrs.  Linley  to  their  final  place  of  rest ; 
where  the  solemn  service  for  the  dead  was  performed 
amidst  the  sighs  and  tears  of  those  whom  her  love  had 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  91 

blessed,  or  her  benevolence  had  assisted  ;  and  her  afflict- 
ed husband,  and  her  weeping  children  had  that  only 
comfort,  which  can  visit  the  heart  at  such  a  period,  of 
seeing  that  her  they  mourned  was  lamented  as  a  general 
loss  by  all  who  had  known  her.  Poor  George,  whose 
feelings,  were  always  strong,  and  who  had  ever  been 
peculiarly  attached  to  his  mother,  stood  pale  and 
almost  motionless ;  no  tears  bedewed  his  eyes,  nor  did 
any  working  of  the  muscles  betray  the  inward  anguish 
of  his  soul ;  he  might  even  to  a  careless  observer  have 
been  thought  insensible  to  the  calamity  that  had 
befallen  him,  had  not  the  frequent  swelling  of  his 
bosom  discovered  his  severe  and  continual  struggles. 
In  this  state  he  remained  during  the  whole  of  the 
funeral  service,  and  even  when  he  saw  the  coffin  of 
her  he  so  fondly  loved  committed  to  the  family  vault, 
his  countenance  remained  unchanged;  but  at  that 
moment,  the  sound  of  deep  and  frequent  sobs,  accom- 
panied by  a  groan  which  bespoke  more  than  common 
anguish,  struck  his  ear ;  and  turning  his  head  in  the 
direction  whence  they  proceeded,  his  eye  rested  on 
the  weeping  Mary,  who  was  only  kept  from  sinking 
to  the  earth  by  the  encircling  arms  of  her  father ;  and 
for  the  first  time  the  friendly  tears  sprung  to  his  eyes, 
and  he  felt  as  though  an  angel  had  appeared  to  him, 
to  tell  "him  that  he  was  not  yet  deprived  of  every 
earthly  comfort. 

Many  long  and  dreary  days  passed  over  poor  Mary's 
head,  after  the  death  of  her  patroness,  before  she  had 
the  melancholy  comfort  of  seeing  any  of  the  Linley 
family;  but  though  a  great  deprivation  to  her  to  be 
thus  suddenly  cut  off  from  all  intercourse  with  those 
she  so  much  loved  and  respected,  and  from  whom  she 


92  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

had  derived  so  much  advantage,  in  some  respects  it 
was  the  means  of  her  enjoying  comparative  ease ;  for 
since  the  death  of  Mrs.  Linley,  and  the  apparent 
estrangement  of  the  family,  Mary  had  found  that  her 
mother  had  treated  her  with  less  unkindness  than 
usual,  and  seemed  to  be  in  a  much  less  restless  and 
disturbed  state  of  mind.  This,  however,  was  not  des- 
tined to  last  long ;  for  in  the  third  week  after  the  death 
of  her  mother,  the  little  Louisa  appeared,  bringing  a 
note  from  her  father  to  Mary,  requesting  her  to  permit 
the  child  to  spend  an  hour  or  two  with  her  every  day, 
for  the  purpose  of  proceeding  with  her  lessons,  till  he 
had  determined  what  other  arrangement  to  make  for 
her.  As  her  father  happened  to  be  beside  her  when 
this  note  was  received,  Mary  immediately  made  him 
acquainted  with  its  contents  ;  and  expressing  his  grati- 
fication at  finding  that  his  daughter  had  an  opportunity 
of  repaying  some  portion,  however  small,  of  her  obli- 
gations to  the  mother,  by  her  attentions  to  the  child, 
he  desired  Mary  immediately  to  sit  down  and  answer 
Mr.  Linley's  note,  in  the  handsomest  manner  she 
could.  Considering  the  treatment  which  Mary  had 
ever  been  in  the  habit  of  receiving  from  her  mother, 
and  the  little  pains  that  this  unhappy  parent  had  ever 
taken  to  make  herself  respectable  in  the  eyes  of  her 
child,  perhaps  the  generality  of  daughters  would  have 
deemed  themselves  excusable  had  they  contented  them- 
selves with  the  sanction  of  one  parent,  without  paying 
the  other  the  compliment  of  consulting  her  at  all  on 
the  subject ;  but  it  was  not  Mary's  way  to  seek  any 
mere  palliatives  for  her  conscience.  If  she  ever  hesi- 
tated, it  was  only  when  she  had  a  doubt  which  was 
her  line  of  duty ;  that  point  ascertained,  the  course, 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  93 

however  painful  to  herself,  was  pursued  with  undevi- 
ating  firmness.  That  her  mother  had  aright  to  expect 
to  be  made  acquainted  with  Mr.  Linley's  proposal,  was 
a  subject  of  which  Mary  had  no  question,  and  she 
therefore  put  the  note  into  her  hand  with  a  look  of  as 
much  respect  as  though  she  had  ever  acted  the  part  of 
aji  affectionate  and  amiable  parent.  But  if  any  thing 
could  possibly  have  made  the  conscientious  girl  repent 
the  performance  of  her  duty,  it  would  have  been  her 
mother's  behaviour  on  learning  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Lin- 
ley.  In  an  instant,  her  body  seemed  absolutely  to 
swell  with  rage,  and  her  eyes  to  flash  fire,  and  totally 
regardless  of  the  presence  of  the  child,  she  exclaimed, 
"  What!  am  I  still  to  be  haunted  by  her.  I  was  in 
hopes,  that  now  she  is  in  her  grave,  I  might  have  some 
peace ;  but  I  find  there  is  no  hope  of  peace  for  me  as 
long  as  one  of  them  is  above  ground.  O,  that  they 
were  all  where  the  mother  now  lies !" 

"Woman,  are  you  mad!"  exclaimed  the  husband, 
in  a  tone  of  extreme  astonishment,  while  poor  Mary 
stood  aghast  and  trembling  at  so  unprovoked  and  un- 
authorized a  burst  of  violence. 

"  Mad  !"  repeated  the  furious  woman  ;  "  yes  ;  it  is 
enough  to  make  anybody  mad,  to  be  haunted  by  beings 
that  one  hates  and  loathes  as  one  does  the  very  devil 
himself.  But  take  notice,  if  any  one  of  that  family  is 
to  be  allowed  to  come  daily  to  this  house,  you  must 
yourself  answer  for  the  consequences." 

"  And  would  you  deprive  your  child  of  a  chance  of 
advancement  in  life,  just  because  you  have  taken  an 
unreasonable  dislike  to  those  who  wish  to  befriend 
her  ?  Only  think  of  the  advantage  it  would  be  to  Mary 
to  be  known  to  have  been  intrusted,  even  for  a  few 


94  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

weeks,  with  the  education  of  Mr.  Linley's  daughter. 
She  might" 

"  Talk  no  more  to  me  of  any  such  advantage,"  in- 
terrupted the  woman  ;  "  I  say  none  of  that  family  shall 
come  daily  to  remind  me  of  the  tortures  of  hell,  and 
the  punishments  in  store  for  the  wicked." 

As  her  mother  spoke,  Mary  turned  her  eyes  on 
the  beautiful  and  blooming  face  of  the  child .  that 
stood  before  her,  and  thought  that  there  could  scarcely 
be  a  more  perfect  picture  of  celestial  purity  and 
angel  loveliness,  than  her  infant  face  displayed.  The 
child,  however,  alarmed  and  terrified  at  the  furious 
manner  of  the  irritated  woman,  crept  up  to  Mary,  and 
taking  hold  of  her  hand,  whispered  softly,  "  May  I  go 
home,  Mary  ?  I  am  afraid  to  stay  here.  I  will  tell 
papa  that  I  do  not  wish  to  come  here,  and  will  ask 
him  if  you  may  not  come  to  our  house  instead." 

Mary  pressed  her  hand,  and  tried  to  allay  her  fears, 
but  in  vain ;  for  at  the  same  moment  her  mother  no- 
ticing the  evident  alarm  of  the  child,  exclaimed,  •'  Yes, 
I  tell  you  that  face,  fair  and  blooming  as  it  is,  speaks 
to  me  only  of  future  torture  and  misery,  and  1  loathe 
the  sight  of  it ;"  and  as  she  spoke  she  looked  at  the 
child  with  a  savage  grin,  that  so  terrified  her,  that  even 
the  sound  of  Mary's  soothing  and  encouraging  voice 
could  not  detain  her,  and  disengaging  her  hand  from 
Mary's,  she  ran  out  of  the  house  as  if  in  actual  fear  of 
her  life.  At  Mary's  request,  her  father  followed  her, 
and  saw  her  safe  home,  while  his  poor  daughter  sat 
employing  herself,  in  painful  and  ineffectual  conjec- 
tures about  the  cause  of  the  bitter  hatred  that  her  mo- 
ther had  always  evinced  towards  the  Linley  family. 
It  is  true,  that  she  had  at  all  times  invariably  opposed 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  95 

every  thing  that  had  any  tendency  to  raise  her  daugh- 
ter above  what  might  be  called  her  standing  in  life ; 
and,  unlike  other  parents,  had  always  evinced  mortifi- 
cation, instead  of  pleasure,  when  Mary's  beauty  and 
extreme  sweetness  of  appearance  happened  to  excite 
the  attention  of  any  one  of  superior  rank.  But  on  no 
occasion  had  such  bitter  and  angry  feelings  been  ex- 
cited as  by  the  kindness  of  the  Linleys,  and  that  more 
especially  from  the  period  when  Mrs.  Linley  had  her- 
self called  upon  her  to  express  the  high  admiration 
that  she  felt  for  her  daughter,  and  the  wish  she  had  to 
assist  her,  and  raise  her  above  the  disadvantages  of 
fortune  under  whiqji  she  laboured.  From  that  moment 
poor  Mary's  life,  which  *had  never  been  a  happy  one, 
became  a  perpetual  scene  of  insult,  mortification,  and 
distress.  Continual  opposition  to  what  the  conscien- 
tious girl  believed  to  be  her  duty,  and  was  conse- 
quently determined  to  adhere  to,  had  rendered  her  life, 
for  the  last  two  years,  a  constant  and  painful  struggle  ; 
so  that  highly  as  she  valued  the  advantages  which  she 
derived  from  Mrs.  Linley's  instructions  and  conversa- 
tion, she  was  sometimes  half  disposed  to  think  she  had 
to  pay  too  dear  for  them,  in  having  to  submit  to  all  the 
mortifications  that  her  cruel  mother  imposed  upon  her; 
and  it  is  probable,  that  had  her  resolution  not  been 
supported  by  the  encouragements  of  her  father,  and  the 
advice  of  the  benevolent  archbishop,  it  would  actually 
have  given  way.  At  no  time,  however,  had  she  felt 
the  trial  greater  than  on  the  present  occasion.  She 
now  found  herself  called  upon  to  return  a  portion  of 
the  unwearied  attention  that  she  had  so  long  received 
from  Mrs.  Linley,  without  being  able  to  perform  what 
would  not  only  be  a  duty,  but  the  highest  gratification 


98  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

she  could  experience ;  and  which  would  do  more  thaa 
any  thing  else  to  relieve  the  painful  void  that  she  had 
felt  since  the  death  of  her  patroness.  Louisa  had 
spoken  of  asking  her  father  to  have  her  to  come  to 
their  house  ;  but  an  instinctive  feeling  of  delicacy  and 
modesty  made  Mary  revolt  from  this  plan.  George 
Linley,  who  was  at  least  three  years  older  than  her- 
self, had,  from  the  first  moment  of  their  acquaintance, 
been  studiously  attentive  and  affectionate  to  her ;  and 
though  she  was  still  so  young  that  she  could  not  but 
believe  that  his  kindness  only  rose  from  a  feeling  of 
benevolence  towards  his  mother's  protegee,  yet  still 
she  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  puttfng  herself  in  his 
way,  now  that  his  father's  house  was  without  any 
ostensible  mistress.  All,  therefore,  that  appeared  to  be 
in  her  power  was  to  answer  Mr.  Linley's  note,  and 
inform  him  as  delicately  as  she  could  of  her  mother's 
unaccountable  objection  to  his  plan ;  and  propose,  as 
the  only  alternative  that  she  had  to  offer,  to  take  a 
walk  every  day,  when  the  weather  would  permit,  with 
the  little  Louisa,  and  to  use  her  utmost  endeavours, 
during  the  course  of  it,  to  strengthen  the  impressions 
of  religion  and  virtue  which  her  angel  mother  had 
implanted  in  her  young1  mind.  To  write  this  note, 
and  consult  her  father  and  her  pastoral  friend,  the  arch- 
bishop, upon  its  propriety,  and  to  receive  their  unhesi- 
tating approbation,  served  to  soothe  and  comfort  her 
agitated  spirits ;  and  when  a  second  note  came  from 
Mr.  Linley,  expressive  of  his  respect  and  approbation, 
and  his  promise  that  her  little  friend  should  always  be 
ready  to  attend  her,  at  any  time  that  she  should  ap- 
point, she  felt  the  sweet  and  soothing  influence  which 
always  attends  the  course  of  virtue,  arising  from  a  self- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  (*7 

approving  mind.  The  period  of  their  first  walk  was 
looked  anxiously  for  by  both  Mary  and  her  little 
friend,  and  the  walk  itself  was  pursued  with  equal 
pleasure  and  advantage  by  both ;  nor  will  we  pretend 
to  say,  that  Mary's  pleasure  was  diminished  by  finding 
that  George  Linley  was  at  the  door  awaiting  their 
return ;  nor  yet  by  his  accompanying  her  to  within  a 
short  distance  of  her  home.  It  was  the  first  time  they 
had  met  since  his  mother's  death,  and  their  con- 
versation, which  dwelt  entirely  upon  that  beloved 
and  lamented  being,  was  sweet  and  soothing  to  the 
feelings  of  both.  It  was  a  melancholy  satisfaction  to 
Mary  to  hear,  and  a  comfort  to  the  mourning  son  to 
relate,  every  minute  particular  of  her  last  moments,  and 
especially  the  resignation  and  composure  which  attended 
her  to  the  last.  "  And  among  the  last  words  she 
spoke,"  continued  George,  "was  to  mention  your 
name,  Mary,  and  to  send  you  her  blessing." 

"  O,  how  anxiously  shall  I  endeavour  to  prove  that 
I  deserve  her  tender  care,"  said  the  affectionate  girl, 
her  bosom  swelling  with  gratitude  as  she  spoke. 

"We  all  know  how  well  you  deserve  it,  Mary," 
returned  George,  in  a  tone  of  deep  feeling,  "  and  have 
only  to  hope,  that  now  we  have  lost  the  example  of 
our  angel  mother,  we  shall  still  have  an  opportunity 
of  copying  the  resemblance  of  her  that  still  remains 
with  us." 

They  had  now  reached  the  corner  of  the  street  in 
which  Mary  resided,  and  anxious  to  save  her  the  re- 
proaches that  he  knew  would  be  poured  out  upon  her, 
should  her  mother  see  them  together,  he  bade  her  a 
good  morning,  and  returned  home. 
I 


« 


THE  TWO  SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  walk  of  the  following  day  was  prosecuted  by 
Mary  and  her  young  companion,  with  the  same  plea 
sure  as  that  of  the  foregoing  had  been,  but  it  was  not 
with  equal  satisfaction  that  Mary  found  George  again 
waiting  at  the  door,  evidently  watching  for  their  return. 
She  felt  that  his  being  there  could  no  longer  be  attri- 
buted to  accident,  and  the  native  delicacy  of  her  mind 
revolted  from  every  thing  that  had  the  slightest  ap- 
pearance of  being  clandestine.  She  therefore  remon- 
strated earnestly  against  his  walking  any  part  of  the  way 
home  with  her,  and  urged  her  wish  to  be  allowed  to 
go  alone,  with  so  evident  an  expression  of  sincerity, 
that  George,  though  most  unwilling  to  be  deprived  of 
the  pleasure  of  spending  a  few  minutes  with  her,  could 
not  withhold  his  compliance. 

To  those  who  are  surrounded  by  kind  friends  and 
agreeable  companions,  this  may  appear  but  a  trifling 
sacrifice  to  propriety  ;  but  to  poor  Mary,  who  had  no 
companions  but  those  who  were  of  a  class  so  far  inferior 
to  her  own  pure,  intelligent,  and  elevated  mind ;  nor  a 
single  friend,  except  her  father,  whose  daily  labours 
left  her  but  little  time  to  enjoy  his  society,  and  the  be- 
nevolent Sisters,  whose  avocations  were  scarcely  less 
unintermitting,  the  self-denial  that  she  thus  exercised 
was  no  mean  offering  at  the  shrine  of  virtue.  She  had 
kuown  George  Linley  from  the  time  of  her  being  only 
ten  years  old,  and  as  his  behaviour  to  her  had  been 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  99 

uniformly  kind  and  affectionate,  an  unreserved  confi- 
dence and  cordiality  had  always  existed  between  them. 
She  had  been  the  repository  of  his  every  thought,  and 
as  far  as  she  could  call  for  his  sympathy  without  expos- 
ing the  faults  of  others,  she  had  always  been  in  the  habit 
of  pouring  all  her  little  troubles  into  his  willing  ear: 
and  now  that  she  no  longer  had  his  mother's  consoling 
friendship  to  rest  upon,  how  doubly  valuable  and 
soothing  to  her  feelings  must  his  kindness  be  ;  but  yet 
propriety  forbade  her  indulging  herself  in  it,  when  only 
to  be  procured  by  clandestine  meetings,  and  she  returned 
home,  consoled  and  comforted  for  the  loss  of  the 
highest  enjoyment  she  could  have  experienced,  by 
the  consciousness  of  having  done  right.  It  is  well, 
however,  that  the  amiable  girl  depended  for  her  reward 
on  her  own  approving  mind,  for  had  she  looked  for  it 
from  any  external  source,  sad  disappointment  would 
alone  have  followed ;  for  on  entering  the  house,  she 
saw  in  an  instant,  by  the  expression  of  her  mother's 
countenance,  what  awaited  her,  while  that  unhappy 
parent  exclaimed, 

"  So,  you  were  found  out,  were  you  1  and  were 
forced  to  part  sooner  than  you  had  intended  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  mother?"  asked  Mary,  in 
unfeigned  astonishment. 

"  Mean  !  why  I  mean  that  you  and  George  Linley 
would  no  doubt  have  had  a  very  agreeable  walk  to- 
gether, if  it  had  not  happened  that  you  got  a  glance  of 
James  Smith,  standing  looking  at  you,  when  you  had 
the  art  to  send  your  young  gentleman  away,  and  are 
come  home  as  simple  and  innocent  looking  as  if  you 
had  never  thought  of  deceiving  anybody." 

"  I  did  not  see  James  Smith,"  replied  Mary,  with  a 


100  THE    TAVO    SCHOOLS. 

look  of  more  contempt  than  it  was  common  for  her  to 
express  towards  any  one ;  "  but  if  I  had,  I  am  sure  ii 
would  never  have  given  me  any  concern  to  think  what 
remarks  he  was  likely  to  make." 

"  It  ill  becomes  you  to  speak  with  such  scorn  of  one 
who  has  always  shown  himself  a  real  friend.  He 
knows  very  well  that  George  Linley,  though  lie  seeks 
your  company  at  present,  will  very  soon,  when  he 
gets  to  be  more  of  a  man,  and  to  understand  better  the 
difference  between  you,  turn  his  back  upon  you  with  as 
much  scorn  as  you  at  present  look  upon  himself ;  and 
as  he  is  a  real  friend,  and  has  your  welfare  at  heart, 
he  is  anxious  to  save  you  from  such  disgrace.  It  was 
this  that  made  him  come  to  tell  me  of  your  walks  with 
Louisa  being  only  an  excuse  for  meeting  with  her 
brother;  and  certainly,  in  doing  so,  he  has  proved 
himself  a  kind  and  thoughtful  friend." 

"  Friend !"  repeated  Mary,  in  a  tone  of  undisguised 
disgust  and  abhorrence. 

"  Yes,  friend,  for  he  is  a  real  friend  ;  and  it  is  my 
command  that  you  treat  him  as  one,  and  receive  his 
kindness  with  the  gratitude  that  it  deserves." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted,  but  poor 
Mary  had  heard  enough  to  add  a  new  and  heavy  weight 
to  her  anxieties.  Her  mother  had  now  openly  espoused 
the  cause  of  this  Smith,  a  young  man  whose  manners 
had  always  been  peculiarly  unpleasant  and  repugnant 
to  her.  He  was  the  book-keeper  for  a  line  of  stages 
which  set  out  from  a  large,  but  far  from  respectable 
tavern  in  the  city,  and  his  manners  were  such  as  might 
be  expected  from  one  who  was  in  the  habit  of  asso- 
ciating with  such  company  as  he  met  there.  Coarse, 
forward,  vulgar,  and  impertinent,  he  had  always  ap- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  101 

peared  disposed  to  treat  Mary  with  a  sort  of  patronizing 
familiarity,  from  which  her  delicate  and  sensitive  mind 
revolted  with  peculiar  disgust,  and  he,  imagining  that  the 
evident  dislike  which  she  evinced  to  himself  arose  from 
the  attention  that  she  received  from  George  Linley,  was 
determined  to  put  a  stop  to  an  intimacy,  which,  by  sug- 
gesting comparisons,  could  only  prove  injurious  to  him. 
It  required  but  little  penetration  to  discover  that  the 
mother  would  be  willing  to  second  all  his  endeavours  for 
this  object,  and  they  very  soon  entered  into  a  regular 
league  and  compact  to  support  each  other's  designs,  of 
which  poor  Mary  was  the  destined  victim.  For  this 
purpose,  Smith  assumed  the  character  of  a  sort  of  spy 
on  Mary's  actions,  and  as  the  time  of  her  walking 
with  Louisa  happened  to  be  that  when  he  was  best 
able  to  leave  his  office,  Mary  scarcely  ever  failed  to 
observe  him  lurking  about,  and  keeping  a  watch  on  her 
proceedings.  This,  however,  except  that  it  was  dis- 
agreeable to  her  to  think  that  he  should  imagine  he  had 
any  thing  to  do  with  her,  was  a  matter  of  slight  im- 
portance to  the  amiable  girl,  who  was  unconscious  of 
an  action,  nay,  almost  of  a  thought,  that  she  wished  to 
conceal ;  and  though  Smith  flattered  himself  that  the 
fear  of  his  observation  was  the  cause  of  George  and 
she  no  longer  meeting,  as  they  had  at  first  done,  Mary 
felt  the  sweet  reward  of  inward  purity,  in  the  reflection 
that  it  arose  from  her  own  sense  of  right  alone. 

Time  passed  on  for  some  weeks  with  little  variation. 
Mary,  though  she  had  continued  her  walks  with  Louisa, 
except  when  prevented  by  the  weather,  without  inter- 
ruption, had  never  seen  George  but  on  very  casual  and 
accidental  occasions,  and  for  a  long  time  had  ex- 
perienced few  pleasures  to  counterbalance  the  conti- 


102  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

nual  mortifications  to  which  she  was  exposed  from  her 
mother  and  her  new  confederate.  It  was  true  hei 
father  was  kind  and  tender  as  he  had  ever  been,  but 
she  had  very  little  of  his  society,  for  he  was  out  at 
work  all  the  day,  and  at  night,  when  he  returned  from 
his  laborious  occupation,  Mary  felt  that  it  would  be 
cruel  to  disturb  the  very  few  hours  of  rest  that  he  could 
call  his  own  by  speaking  of  her  troubles,  though  his 
tender  and  never-failing  sympathy  could  not  but  be 
most  soothing  to  her  feelings.  An  occasional  visit 
therefore  to  the  pious  Sisters,  whose  advice  was  al- 
ways at  her  command,  and  a  conversation  at  least  once  a 
month  with  the  benevolent  archbishop,  whose  rank  had 
never  raised  him  above  even  the  temporal  interests  of 
those  who  looked  up  to  him,  were  all  the  enjoyments 
within  the  power  of  the  gentle  girl ;  yet  was  she  serene 
and  even  cheerful  when  not  under  the  immediate  pres- 
sure of  persecution.  She  had  continued  her  drawing 
with  indefatigable  diligence  since  Mrs.  Linley's  death  ; 
and  though  she  had  frequently  felt  the  want  of  her 
friend's  advice  and  assistance,  so  great  was  her  natural 
taste  for  the  art,  that  she  had  made  great  and  rapid  im- 
provement ;  and  being  conscious,  notwithstanding  the 
modesty  with  which  she  judged  of  every  thing  con- 
cerning herself,  of  having  attained  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  excellence,  she  commenced  a  piece  with  the 
intention  when  it  was  finished  of  offering  it  for  sale  ; 
and  the  idea  that  she  might  by  that  means  attain  some 
degree  of  independence,  and  relieve  her  father  from 
some  of  the  burden  of  maintaining  the  family,  was  a 
delightful  and  cheering  stimulus  to  her  endeavours. 

"  O !  how  happy  it  would  make  me,"  thought  she,  as 
she  one  morning  seated  herself  at  her  work,  "if  I  could 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  103 

get  into  the  way  of  providing  for  myself,  and  no  longer 
be  a  burden  on  my  dear  kind  father.  He  would  then 
be  able  to  take  an  occasional  holiday,  or  if  he  chanced  to 
be  sick,  would  be  able  to  stay  at  home  to  nurse  himself 
till  he  was  well  again ;  for  we  should  then  have  some 
other  dependence  than  his  daily  labour." 

As  these  cheering  thoughts  passed  her  mind,  her 
pencil  moved  with  additional  celerity,  while  she  poured 
forth,  from  a  rich  and  harmonious  voice,  occasional 
snatches  of  her  favourite  airs.  At  length  her  music 
was  stopped,  and  her  hand  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a 
footstep  in  the  entry,  and  as  her  mother  was  out,  and 
was  likely,  she  knew,  to  be  absent  for  some  time,  she 
was  sure  it  must  be  the  step  of  a  visiter,  and  she  raised 
her  eyes  as  the  door  opened,  almost  trembling  with 
the  dread  of  seeing  Smith  enter ;  but  though  instead  ot 
his,  the  manly,  generous,  and  affectionate  countenance 
of  George  Linley  met  her  view,  her  agitation  and  fear, 
though  of  a  different  nature,  were  scarcely  less  distress- 
ing. 

"  O  George,  why  are  you  here?"  she  exclaimed  in 
great  agitation  ;  "  you  know  you  promised  that " 

"  Do  not  blame  me,  dear  Mary,"  replied  George,  in 
a  tenderly  remonstrating  tone,  "  till  you  hear  what  I 
have  to  say.  My  visit  this  morning  is  on  business, 
and  J  entreat  you  to  allow  me  to  speak  to  you  on  it." 

Mary  laid  down  her  pencil,  and  expressed  by  her 
looks  that  she  was  ready  to  hear  him ;  and  he  con- 
tinued : — 

"  My  father  is  going  on  business  to  Powles  Hook, 
and  he  is  in  want  of  an  active  intelligent  man,  on  whose 
fidelity  he  can  depend,  to  assist  him  ;  and  I  have  thought 
that  if  I  could  prevail  upon  him  to  take  your  father,  it 


104  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

would  be  the  means  of  his  becoming  acquainted  with 
his  many  excellent  qualities  ;  and  I  arn  sure  when  he 
is  once  fully  aware  of  them,  it  will  be  a  great  gratifi- 
cation to  him  to  put  your  father  forward  in  a  manner 
more  worthy  of  him  than  his  present  situation  is.  I  did 
not  like,  however,  to  say  any  thing  upon  the  subject  till 
I  had  consulted  you." 

"  You  surely  could  not  doubt  that  I  should  be  de- 
lighted with  any  thing  that  was  likely  to  make  my  dear 
father  better  known  and  estimated  ;  but  you  know, 
George,  that  though  possessed  of  sterling  integrity,  and 
of  unwearied  activity  and  industry,  he  is  not  capable 
of  performing  the  duties  of  a  clerk,  even  in  the  very 
simplest  form  in  which  they  can  be  required." 

"  That  I  am  aware  of,"  replied  George,  anxious  to 
remove  the  feeling  of  mortification  which  displayed 
itself  by  the  heightened  tinge  of  Mary's  cheek  as  she 
spoke  of  her  father's  deficiencies ;  "  but  I  know  also 
his  sterling  integrity  and  incorruptible  honesty,  and 
these  qualities,  together  with  his  native  shrewdness  and 
observation,  are  so  important  in  the  business  in  which 
my  father  would  have  to  employ  him,  that,  I  am  per- 
suaded, they  will  compensate  for  every  other  deficiency. 
I  have  long  wished  our  fathers  to  be  better  acquainted 
with  each  other,  as  I  was  sure  it  could  not  fail  to  be  a 
mutual  advantage." 

"  O,  how  happy  I  shall  be  to  see  my  beloved  father 
placed  in  a  situation  more  worthy  of  him,"  cried  Mary, 
with  animation  ;  "and  how  much  you  will  add  to  the 
many  obligations  that  I  already  owe  to  your  family,  by 
thus  serving  him." 

"  There  is  only  one  difficulty,"  said  George,  "  and 
that,  Mary,  is,  that  he  will  have  to  be  from  home  at 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  105 

least  three  or  four  months,  and  during  that  time  you 
will  be  left  without  a  protector." 

"  I  cannot  be  entirely  without  a  protector,"  returned 
Mary,  the  deepening  tinge  again  rising  to  her  cheek, 
"  while  I  have  my  mother  with  me." 

"  Forgive  me,  dear  Mary,  for  venturing  upon  the 
painful  subject;  but  you  must  know,  that  I  am  aware 
of  the  many  painful  trials  you  are  likely  to  be  exposed 
to,  when  your  father  is  not  here  to  take  your  part ;  and 
it  is  on  this  account  that  I  wished  to  consult  you  be- 
fore I  mentioned  the  subject  to  my  father ;  for  I  did  not 
know  how  far  you  would  dare  to  be  left  without  him." 

"  O,  do  not  take  me  into  consideration,"  cried  Mary, 
with  energy ;  "  for  what  is  it  that  I  would  not  endure 
for  the  benefit  of  my  dear,  dear  father  ?  He  has  always 
been  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice,  however  painful  to 
himself,  to  serve  me ;  and  can  I  be  otherwise  than 
happy  at  having  an  opportunity  of  returning  his  kind- 
ness ?" 

"  Then  I  will  go  about  the  business  immediately, 
and  I  have  very  little  doubt  of  success.  But  before  I 
go,  Mary,"  added  George,  going  forward  and  taking 
her  affectionately  by  the  hand,  "  will  you  allow  me  to 
make  one  request?" 

"  What  is  it  you  would  ask  ?"  said  the  gentle  girl 
looking  inquiringly  into  his  face. 

"  While  your  father  is  from  home,  I  know  it  will  be 
necessary,  to  save  you  from  persecution,  that  I  should 
avoid  seeing  you ;  but  promise  me,  dearest  Mary,  that 
you  will  never  let  any  one  persuade  you  to  think  ill  of 
me,  and  that  you  will  continue  to  think  of  me,  not  only 
as  the  son  of  your  lost  friend,  but  as  one  to  whom  your 


106  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

welfare  and  happiness  must  always  be  inexpressibly 
dear." 

"Can  you  imagine,"  said  Mary,  her  fine  eyes 
swimming  in  tears  as  she  spoke,  "  that  I  can  ever  fail 
to  think  with  gratitude  and  affection  of  one  who  has 
ever  been  so  unvarying  in  his  kindness  to  me  ?" 

"  No,  I  will  not  think  it,"  replied  George.  "  Fare- 
well, then,  dear  Mary,  till  we  meet  again,  which  I 
hope  will  be  under  happier  circumstances."  So  say- 
ing, he  shook  her  affectionately  by  the  hand,  and 
immediately  left  the  house. 

OD  her  father's  return  from  his  work  in  the  evening, 
he  mentioned  Mr.  Linley's  having  sent  for  him,  and 
made  proposals  for  his  accompanying  him,  which  were 
so  highly  advantageous,  that  he  was  almost  afraid,  as 
he  said,  to  flatter  himself  with  the  hope  that  the  thing 
would  be  agreed  upon  ;  "  but  if  it  is,  Mary,  girl,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  things  will  be  very  different  with  you  soon 
from  what  they  have  been." 

"  Yes ;  I  suppose  you  will  make  a  lady  of  her,  and 
keep  me  to  be  her  waiting-woman,"  said  his  wife, 
gruffly ;  for  to  her  bosom  no  kindling  ray  of  pleasure 
was  brought  by  any  promised  advantage  to  her  child  ; 
indeed,  on  the  contrary,  even  her  own  interest  seemed 
to  lose  its  value  in  her  eyes,  if  Mary  was  also  to 
derive  benefit  from  it. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  what  should  make  you  talk  in 
thai  way,  wife,"  remonstrated  the  husband;  "for  I 
think  you  have  always  found  things  go  on  in  a  very 
different  way.  I  am  sure  no  woman  in  the  United 
States  has  a  more  affectionate  and  attentive  child  than 
you  have  ;  and  instead  of  expecting  you  to  wait  on  her, 


THE   TWO   SCHOOLS.  107 

you  cannot  say  but  that  she  is  always  ready  to  wait  on 
you,  and  save  you  trouble  whenever  you  will  let  her. 
But  you  know  very  well,  that  you  many  a  time  refuse 
her  services,  and  then  grumble  at  having  so  much 
to  do." 

"  Because  I  would  rather  do  a  thing  myself  than  be 
served  by  those  who  I  know  despise  me." 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  Mary,  in  a  gentle  voice, 
while  the  tears  glistened  in  her  eyes,  "  how  happy  I 
should  be  if  I  could  convince  you,  that  even  if  natural 
affection  did  not  save  me  from  the  sin  of  despising  a 
parent,  religion  would." 

"  Well,  come,"  interrupted  the  father,  who  saw  from 
his  wife's  countenance  that  she  was  preparing  some 
cutting  reply  to  her  daughter's  gentle  remonstrance, 
"  let  us  have  no  more  of  this.  I  am  going  round  to 
Mr.  Linley's  to  hear  what  he  has  determined  upon, 
and  I  expect  to  have  a  comfortable  evening  when  I 
come  back.  Indeed,  if  it  so  be  that  I  have  to  go  away, 
you  will  have  enough  on  your  hands  to  get  ray  things 
ready,  for  I  shall  have  to  be  off  in  the  course  of  a 
couple  of  days." 

Mary's  heart  beat  anxiously  during  her  father's 
absence  at  Mr.  Linley's ;  nor  were  its  throbbings 
abated,  though  the  feelings  which  suggested  them  were 
of  a  different  nature,  when  he  returned,  and  declared 
that  the  arrangements  had  all  been  made  in  the  kindest 
and  most  liberal  manner ;  and  that  Mr.  Linley  had  ap- 
peared fully  disposed  to  act  generously  towards  him, 
and  added,  that  he  had  been  induced,  in  several 
instances,  to  extend  his  liberality  by  the  interference 
of  his  son.  Sweet  to  her  was  the  thought  of  that  son's 
unwearying  kindness,  which  was  made  doubly  delightful 


108  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

to  her  by  the  delicate  and  judicious  manner  in  which 
it  was  testified.  Cheered  by  its  influence,  and  by  the 
consideration,  that  though  her  father  was  about  to  leave 
her,  he  would  be  with  the  father  of  George,  and  that 
through  Mr.  Linley's  means  she  would  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  receiving  constant  accounts  of  his  welfare, 
though  her  father  himself  was  unable  to  communicate 
them  ;  she  busied  herself  in  the  necessary  preparations 
for  his  departure,  with  a  cheerfulness  that  surprised 
even  herself,  when  she  reflected  that  she  was  making 
arrangements  for  parting  with  the  only  being  in  the 
world  on  whom  nature  and  affection  united  in  giving 
her  a  claim ;  and  when,  at  length,  the  time  arrived  for 
his  leaving  them,  though  she  found  it  impossible  to  bid 
him  adieu  with  tearless  eyes,  she  wept  more  from  ten- 
derness than  from  grief,  as  her  fond  parent  folded  her 
to  his  bosom,  and  said,  "Be  of  good  heart,  my  darling 
girl;  we  shall  soon  meet  again,  under  happier  cir- 
cumstances. I  will  not  say,  be  kind  to  your  mother, 
Mary,  or  faithful  to  your  religious  duties,  because  that 
would  be  as  much  as  to  say,  that  you  have  sometimes 
neglected  the  one  or  failed  in  the  other.  I  will  only 
beg  of  you  always  to  keep  in  mind,  that  though  I  may 
not  be  near  you,  your  Father  that  is  in  heaven  will 
always  be  with  to  watch  over  and  protect  you."  Then 
kissing  her  over  and  over  again,  and  taking  an  affec- 
tionate leave  of  his  wife,  who,  however,  evinced  no 
reciprocation  of  tenderness,  he  departed. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THOUGH  the  sweetness  of  Mary's  disposition  had  led 
her  in  hope  that  she  might,  by  the  extreme  watchful- 
ness which  she  was  resolved  to  exercise  over  herself, 
be  able  to  keep  he1*  mother  in  tolerably  good  humour 
(luring  her  father's  absence,  she  had  not  in  her  most 
sanguine  moments  anticipated  the  task  to  be  so  easy  as 
she  found  it.  A  complete  change  had  taken  place  in  her 
manner  towards  her  daughter,  and  the  astonished  girl 
heard  with  delight  the  words,  "  Mary,  dear,"  "  Mary, 
my  darling,"  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  flowing  from 
the  lips  of  a  mother. 

"  O,  how  delightful,"  she  exclaimed,  inwardly, 
"  are  those  endearing  expressions !  Who  knows  but 
that  my  prayers  at  length  have  been  heard,  and  that 
my  anxious  endeavours  are  to  be  rewarded  by  the  love 
of  my  other  parent  ?  No  girl  in  America  has  a  kinder 
father  than  I  have,  and  if  I  am  blessed  with  an  affec- 
tionate mother  also,  who  will  be  so  happy  as  I  ?" 

But  Mary  was  not  permitted  to  remain  long  in  this 
pleasing  delusion ;  for  she  soon  saw,  with  inexpressible 
pain,  that  her  mother's  kindness  was  a  mere  artifice, 
for  the  purpose  of  inveigling  her  into  treating  Smith 
with  more  cordiality.  But  though  ever  alive  to  kind- 
ness, and  deeply  grateful  for  it,  Mary  had  too  much 
discrimination,  and  too  strong  a  sense  of  right  and 
wrong,  to  be  drawn  aside  from  the  path  of  duty  or 
propriety,  even  by  the  allurements  of  affection.  From 
K 


1  J  0  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

the  moment  that  her  father  left  home,  she  found  thai 
Smith's  visits  at  the  house  had  become  hoth  more 
frequent  and  more  familiar  than  they  had  ever  before 
been ;  and  though  it  did  not  at  first  occur  to  her  that 
her  mother  .had  any  thing  to  do  with  this,  and  the 
increased  kindness  of  that  parent  succeeded  for  a  short 
time  in  lulling  her  suspicions,  they  were  not  long  per- 
mitted to  sleep ;  for  as  soon  as  her  mother  found  that, 
though  Mary  received  her  expressions  and  tokens  of 
tenderness  with  pleasure  and  gratitude,  her  manners 
continued  to  be  as  repulsive  and  cold  as  ever  to  the 
young  man  whose  cause  she  had  undertaken  to  espouse  ; 
the  mask  was  thrown  aside,  and  the  work  of  perse- 
cution again  commenced  ;  and  thus  was  added  the  pain 
of  disappointment  to  the  other  causes  of  distress  with 
which  the  poor  girl  had  already  to  contend.  The  first 
gleam  of  comfort  that  broke  in  upon  her,  to  enliven 
the  painful  days  and  anxious  nights  that  she  had  now 
to  spend,  was  a  message  from  George,  conveyed  to  her 
through  the  means  of  the  little  Louisa,  whom  she  had 
of  late  but  seldom  seen,  in  consequence  of  her  having 
been  sent  on  a  visit  to  a  friend,  during  the  absence  of 
her  father.  George  had  before  sent  her  word  of  their 
arrival  at  Powles  Hook,  and  of  the  health  of  her  father  ; 
but  the  last  letter,  which  was  written  on  the  third 
week  after  their  departure,  contained  so  Avarm  a  testi- 
mony in  favour  of  his  activity,  sobriety,  fidelity,  and 
cheerful  good  nature,  that  George,  knowing  well  the 
pleasure  that  it  would  communicate  to  Mary's  bosom, 
copied  it  from  his  father's  letter,  and  sent  it  to  her  by 
his  little  messenger.  It  was,  indeed,  delightful  to  her 
to  find  that  her  dear  parent,  wiiom  she  at  once  loved 
and  respected,  had  at  length  met  with  an  employer 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  1)1 

capable  of  estimating  the  many  valuable  traits  of  his 
character,  and  who  had  the  power  as  well  as  the  will 
to  serve  him.  When  she  read  the  extract  of  Mr.  Lin- 
ley's  letter  to  her  mother,  however,  she  saw,  with 
pain,  that  this  unhappy  woman  heard  at  least  with 
indifference,  if  not  with  dissatisfaction,  this  tribute  to 
her  husband's  worth,  and  that  muttering  something 
about  there  being  no  doubt  that  the  father  and  daughter 
would  soon  be  great  people,  and  she  left  to  get  on  as 
she  could,  she  turned  away  from  the  sight  of  her 
daughter's  glowing  and  beautiful  countenance,  with  as 
much  horror  as  we  may  imagine  the  demon  of  dark- 
ness would  recoil  from  the  sight  of  that  which  is  holy 
and  divine.  But  though  Mary  found  not  the  sympathy 
in  her  mother  that  her  heart  required,  there  were 
others  by  whom  it  was  never  withheld  from  her;  and 
the  pious  Sisters  and  venerable  archbishop  both  shared 
in  her  pleasure,  when  in  the  fulness  of  her.  heart  she 
hastened  to  communicate  it  to  them. 

"  Your  father,"  said  the  benevolent  prelate,  "  has 
ever  acted  the  part  of  a  devout  and  pious  Christian, 
anxious  to  fulfil  the  various  duties  which  devolved 
upon  him,  with  cheerfulness  and  fidelity;  and  I  re- 
joice to  think  he  is  likely  to  meet  his  reward  even  in 
this  life ;  but  should  that  not,  after  all,  be  the  case, 
remember,  my  child,  that  it  is  not  for  this  he  has 
laboured.  He  has  made  it  his  object,  through  life,  to 
gain  the  approbation  of  almighty  God,  and  we  know 
he  will  not  leave  him  unrewarded." 

After  sharing  her  happiness  with  her  friends,  Mary's 
next  object  was  to  give  expression  to  it  in  a  letter  to 
her  father  himself;  and  though  it  was  some  alloy  to 
think  that  a  third  person  must  intervene,  to  be  the 


112 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


interpreter  of  her  expressions  of  affection,  she  recol 

lected,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  pious  Mr.  X ,  of 

whom  she  had  often  heard,  would  most  probably  be 
the  person  called  upon,  by  her  father,  to  read  her 
letter  to  him,  and  she,  therefore,  allowed  her  feelings 
to  flow  without  restraint,  from  the  consideration  that 
what  she  said  would  still  only  meet  the  eye  of  a 
kind  and  indulgent  father.  After  expressing  her  grati- 
fication at  hearing  of  his  health,  and  the  comfortable 
circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed,  she  spoke  with 
all  the  glowing  energy  of  her  nature  of  her  delight  at 
finding  his  many  excellencies  so  justly  valued  by  his 
employer.  "  And  now,"  she  continued,  "  that  my 
beloved  father's  many  valuable  and  estimable  qualities 
are  known  to  one  who  is  capable  of  appreciating  them, 
I  am  sure  I  shall  no  longer  have  the  pain  of  seeing  his 
noble  mind  bowed  down  by  the  incessant  labour  to 
which  he  has  ever,  hitherto,  been  condemned.  You 
know,  my  dear  father,  in  the  plans  of  happiness 
which  we  have  so  often  amused  ourselves  with  pictur- 
ing, the  possession  of  wealth  was  never  considered  an 
essential.  The  power  of  providing  for  our  necessities 
with  sufficient  ease  to  leave  us  time  to  attend  more 
fully  to  the  duties  of  our  holy  religion,  to  cultivate  our 
minds,  and  to  enjoy  more  of  each  other's  society,  has 
ever  been  our  highest  ambition ;  and  surely  it  is  not 
unreasonable  to  expect,  that  one  so  industrious,  so 
active,  and  so  faithful  as  you  have  ever  been,  will 
now,  that  he  has  got  into  the  employment  of  so  good 
a  master,  be  able  to  accomplish  this.  And  only  think 
how  we  shall  enjoy  ourselves  when  you  have  your 
evenings  at  your  own  disposal,  and  we  can  spend  them 
together  !  You  are  to  be  my  pupil  then,  you  know, 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  113 

and  I  am  to  teach  you  to  read  and  write.  O,  how 
delightful  it  will  be  when  you  can  write  to  me,  and 
tell  me  all  your  own  kind  thoughts  in  your  own 
words ;  and  read  mine,  and  have  them  as  closely 
locked  up  in  your  bosom  as  though  I  had  just  whis- 
pered them  into  your  ear !  These  will  be  happy  times, 
my  dear  father,  and  the  thought  of  their  approach  shall 
cheer  the  long,  long,  tedious  hours  till  your  return. 
Continue,  my  beloved  father,  to  think  of  me  with  your 
usual  tenderness,  and  believe  that  your  Mary's  fondest 
wish  is  to  testify  her  affection  and  gratitude,  and 
return  your  unceasing  tenderness  by  pouring  sweetness 
into  every  draught  which  you  have  to  take  of  the  cup 
of  life." 

Not  one  complaint,  not  one  expression  that  was 
likely  to  excite  a  pang,  or  give  birth  to  anxiety,  escaped 
her.  She  spoke  of  her  mother,  of  course ;  but  dwelt 
rather  upon  her  own  feelings  towards  that  parent,  than 
on  the  return  which  she  received,  and  said  all  that 
truth  would  permit,  to  make  her  father  believe  that  she 
was  comfortable  and  happy.  And  so,  indeed,  she  en- 
deavoured to  persuade  herself  that  she  was ;  for  her 
disposition,  naturally  happy  and  contented,  had  been 
schooled  into  bearing  and  forbearing ;  and  as  she  had 
never  been  much  accustomed  to  indulgence,  for  her 
father  had  had  too  little  time  to  spend  at  home  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  bestowing  much  upon  her,  she,  of 
course,  did  not  experience  any  great  deprivation.  It  is 
true,  the  coldness  of  her  mother's  general  manner,  and 
the  frequent  bitterness  and  severity  of  it,  could  never 
fail  to  be  painful ;  yet  they  were  things  of  too  frequent 
recurrence  to  excite  any  very  strong  emotions,  and 
were  calculated  rather  to  check  happiness  than  to  pro- 

K2 


114  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

duce  misery.  Her  endeavours,  however,  to  induce 
her  daughter  to  admit  Smith  as  an  intimate  friend  and 
companion,  were  not  so  passive  in  their  effects;  and 
Mary  saw,  with  extreme  distress,  that  she  must  either 
comply  with  her  mother's  wishes,  or  expose  herself  to 
the  united  insults  of  both  parties.  The  coarseness  and 
vulgarity  of  the  young  man's  manners  had  always 
been  peculiarly  disgusting  to  Mary's  feelings;  and 
when,  in  addition  to  this,  she  became  convinced,  as 
she  very  soon  was,  that  his  moral  character  was  still 
more  exceptionable  than  his  manners,  she  resolved, 
with  all  the  quiet  determination  of  moral  rectitude,  that 
nothing  should  induce  her  to  receive  his  advances  to- 
wards familiarity,  with  any  thing  but  the  contempt 
that  they  deserved. 

Things  were  in  this  state,  whe'n  one  warm  afternoon 
in  July,  about  a  month  after  her  father  had  left  home, 
ehe  had  just  seated  herself  at  an  open  window,  after 
having  been  engaged  with  her  drawing  till  the  ap- 
proaching twilight  would  no  longer  allow  her  to  perse- 
vere in  her  employment,  when  Smith  entered,  and  very 
unceremoniously  seated  himself  on  the  window  seal 
beside  her.  "  Well,  Mary,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  pert 
familiarity,  "  how  have  you  been  spending  your  time 
to-day  ?  What  have  you  been  busy  with  ?" 

"  When  I  understand  your  right  to  question  me,  I 
will  answer  your  inquiries,"  replied  Mary,  haughtily  ; 
and  rising  as  she  spoke,  she  went  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room. 

"Hey-d=iy!  What's  the  matter  now?  You  get 
prouder  and  prouder  every  day,  I  think.  Mrs.  M'Don- 
nell,  where  does  your  daughter  get  these  manners  ?  I 
am  sure  it  is  not  from  you.'* 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  115 

•'  You  say  very  right,  Mr.  Smith ;  sure  enough,  it 
is  not  from  me.  So  far  from  it,  I  believe  it  is  only 
because  she  knows  that  I  have  a  respect  for  you,  and 
would  wish  you  to  be  treated  with  politeness,  that  she 
behaves  so  rudely.  To  gain  Mary's  good  will,  you 
should  not  come  recommended  by  her  mother.  An 
honest,  respectable  gentleman,  introduced  by  me, 
would  have  a  worse  chance  of  being  received  with 
kindness  by  Mary,  than  the  greatest  blackguard  that 
was  brought  to  the  house  by  her  father." 

"  O,  mother,"  said  Mary,  casting  on  her  mother,  as 
she  spoke,  a  look  of  reproach  that  no  reflections  upon 
herself  could  have  called  forth,  "how  can  you  be  so 
unjust  to  my  father,  as  to  insinuate,  for  a  moment,  that 
he  ever  condescended  to  associate  with  such  charac- 
ters ?  You  know  how  very  scrupulous  he  has  ever 
been  about  the  company  he  either  kept  himself,  or 
allowed  me  to  keep." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  we  know  very  well  that  he  always 
made  a  great  talk  about  the  choosing  of  his  company," 
returned  the  mother,  "  and  for  that  reason  you  think,  I 
suppose,  that  it  becomes  you  to  give  yourself  what 
airs  you  please  ?" 

"  It  is  all  very  natural,"  rejoined  Smith,  with  a  look 
of  great  condescension ;  "  we  all  know  that  it  is  no 
uncommon  thing  for  beauties  to  give  themselves  airs. 
Nor  is  it  very  uncommon  for  them  to  meet  sometimes 
with  things  to  humble  them.  And  so,  perhaps,  may 
be  the  case  with  our  young  beauty  here.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  we  were  to  see  the  day,  and  that  before  very 
long,  when  she  will  be  as  anxious  to  win  a  smile  from 
James  Smith,  as  he  is  now  to  get  one  from  her." 

"  Never  !"  said  Mary,  firmly. 


116  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  Ah  !  so  you  think  at  present,"  returned  the  young 
man,  with  a  most  provoking  air  of  self-importance. 
"  You  think  so  now,  no  doubt ;  but  you  have  had  very 
little  experience  in  life,  to  show  you  what  sudden 
turns  things  sometimes  take ;  and  how  we  are  some- 
times led  to  cling  to  those,  as  our  best  friends,  whom 
we  had  only  a  short  time  before  despised  and  insulted. 
But  I  promise  you,  my  pretty  Mary" — and  as  he  said 
this,  he  went  towards  her,  and  took  her  hand,  which 
Mary  resisted  with  an  expression  of  contempt,  mingled 
with  disgust.  "Well,  well!"  he  continued,  as  if  in 
answer  to  this  motion,  "  in  spite  of  all  this,  when  the 
time  comes  that  your  proud  spirit  gets  humbled,  and 
you  show  a  becoming  meekness ;  I  promise  you,  I 
say,  that  you  will  not  find  James  Smith  the  man  to 
keep  ill  in  his  mind.  So  you  see,  Mary,"  he  continued, 
"  I  am  not  quite  so  bad  as  you  take  me  for;  let  us  be 
friends,  therefore,  and  you  may  depend  upon  it,  I  shall 
always  have  a  pleasure  in  being  kind  to  you."  And 
as  he  spoke  he  again  made  an  attempt  at  taking  her 
hand ;  but  the  indignant  girl,  as  if  she  thought  there 
would  be  contamination  in  the  touch,  almost  sprang 
to  the  other  side  of  the  room,  while  she  exclaimed, 
"  Never ;  never  will  I  be  friends  with  you.  I  would 
sooner  die  than  receive  kindness  from  one  whose  con- 
duct I  despise." 

"  O,  well ;  we  must  just  leave  you  alone  till  you  come 
to  yourself  then,"  said  the  young  man,  and  turning  on 
his  heel,  with  a  look  in  which  malignity  and  mortifi- 
cation were  mingled,  he  said,  "  Mrs.  M'Donnell,  have 
you  heard  to-day's  accounts  of  the  cholera  ?" 

Mary  raised  her  eyes  with  an  inquiring  look,  while 
her  mother  answered,  "  No." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  117 

*•  Ninety-five  deaths  in  Philadelphia  yesterday,"  he 
continued ;  "  and  it  is  spreading  very  fast  in  all  direc- 
tions." 

"  Have  there  been  any  cases  in  Wilmington  ?" 
asked  Mary,  whose  anxiety  overcame  her  repugnance 
to  addressing  the  person  from  whom  she  was  anxious 
to  obtain  the  information. 

"  No,"  replied  the  young  man,  in  a  tone  of  great 
indifference  ;  "  but  there  have  been  several  at  Powles 
Hook." 

Mary  started,  and  turned  pale  ;  while  Smith,  without 
appearing  to  notice  her  agitation,  continued,  "  and 
accounts  are  come  to-day,  of  a  gentleman  of  great 
respectability  having  died  there,  after  only  six  hours' 
illness." 

"  O,  is  his  name  mentioned?"  asked  Mary,  in  almost 
breathless  alarm. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  young  man,  in  a  tone  of  great 
indifference,  "  it  is  Linley." 

Mary  uttered  a  shriek  of  agony,  and  fell  senseless 
on  the  floor ;  but  not  before  she  had  heard  her  mother 
exclaim,  "  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !  All  is  coming 
right  at  last." 

When  she  recovered  her  consciousness,  after  the 
swoon  into  which  she  had  fallen,  she  found  that  some 
one  was  chafing  her  temples  with  vinegar,  and  occa- 
sionally holding  it  for  her  to  smell ;  but  the  recollection 
of  the  calamity  which  had  deprived  her  for  a  time  of 
sensibility,  made  her  but  little  disposed  to  raise  her 
eyes,  till  the  recollection  of  to  whom  it  was  probable 
she  owed  these  tender  offices,  induced  her  to  look  up  ; 
when  finding  that  it  was  Smith  who  was  performing 
them,  while  her  mother  stood  bv,  with  an  ill  assumed 


118 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


look  of  concern,  she  started  up  with  a  degree  of  strengtn 
of  which  she  had  a  minute  before  conceived  herself 
incapable,  and  rushing  up  stairs,  threw  herself  upon 
her  bed,  where  a  bursting  flood  of  tears  came  gratefully 
to  her  aid.  The  sound  of  Smith's  voice  in  conversation 
with  her  mother  rested  long  and  painfully  upon  her  ear, 
but  she  was  too  much  absorbed  by  the  recollection  of 
the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  them  ;  by  the  depriva- 
tion to  the  little  Louisa  of  her  only  remaining  parent ; 
and  perhaps  most  of  all,  by  her  sympathy  for  George 
in  this  new  calamity,  to  give  him  much  of  her  attention ; 
so  that  after  he  had  left  the  house,  and  her  mother 
came  up  stairs  and  told  her  that  Mr.  Smith  had  left  his 
kind  respects  for  her,  the  words,  though  they  reached 
her  ear,  made  so  little  impression  on  her  mind,  that 
her  countenance  failed  to  express  its  usual  disapproba- 
tion of  even  a  message  from  such  a  quarter.  This  her 
unhappy  mother  construed  into  what  appeared  to  her 
a  very  natural  feeling,  and  supposing  that  Mary  had 
already  become  sensible  of  the  necessity  of  retaining 
the  friends  they  had,  to  supply  the  place  of  those  they 
had  lost,  or  might  chance  to  lose,  said, 

"  We  ought  to  be  very  thankful,  Mary,  that  the 
Almighty  has  raised  us  up  such  a  friend  as  this  young 
man  at  such  a  time  as  this,  for  who  knows  how  much 
\ve  may  stand  in  need  of  him  ?  You  see  that  your 
father  has  now  lost  the  friend  that  both  he  and  you 
calculated  so  much  upon;  so  that  we  may  be  very 
thankful  that  Providence  has  thrown  another  in  his 
way,  and  one  too,  that  if  your  father's  life  be 
spared " 

"  My  father's  life  !'  interrupted  Mary,  starting  up 
in  her  bed  with  a  sudden  emotion  of  agony,  as  the 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  \  10 

idea  of  his  danger,  which  had  hitherto  been  absorbed 
in  the  distressing  recollection  of  Mr.  Linley  s  death, 
occurred  to  her.  "  O,  yes,  you  may  indeed  say  if  his 
ife  be  spared,  for  is  he  not  in  the  midst  of  disease  and 
death?  My  father!  my  dear  father!"  she  exclaimed, 
as  she  rose  from  her  bed,  and  paced  the  room  in  an 
agony  of  distress,  "  perhaps  at  this  moment  you  are 
writhing  in  the  agonies  of  death,  or  perhaps  your  pure 
spirit  has  already  left  its  earthly  habitation,  and  will 
no  longer  bless  and  strengthen  me  with  its  influence ; 
and  your  child,  who  would  willingly  have  given  her 
own  life  to  save  yours,  will  have  been  your  mur- 
derer." 

"  But  I  cannot  tell  why  you  need  to  set  his  death 
down  as  certain,"  said  her  mother,  in  a  tone  of  great 
composure  ;  "  sure,  we  know  very  well  that  some 
people  recover,  and  why  may  not  he  ?" 

"  Do  you  know,  then,  that  he  has  been  attacked  with 
the  disease  ?"  asked  Mary,  while  a  livid  paleness  over- 
spread her  countenance. 

"  Mr.  Smith  says  that  the  letter  which  came  to 
George  Linley,  informing  him  of  his  father's  death, 
mentioned  that  Alexander  M'Donald  had  likewise 
been  seized." 

Mary  clasped  her  hands  together,  and,  sinking  on 
her  knees,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  from  which  she  had 
just  risen,  she  raised  her  full  and  deeply  expressive 
eye,  which  beamed  with  every  feeling  of  piety,  resig- 
nation, and  affection,  and  poured  forth  her  soul  in 
prayer  for  a  life  so  infinitely  dear  to  her. 

"  I  cannot  see  any  reason  for  your  taking  on  in  this 
way,"  said  the  unfeeling  wife,  as  soon  as  she  saw  that 
Mary  had  ceased  to  be  actually  in  prayer,  for  even  her 


120  THE   TWO    SCHOOLS. 

obdurate  spirit  had  felt  awed  while  her  daughter  was 
in  the  very  act  of  communing  with  her  Maker ;  "  I 
don't  know  why  you  should  be  determined  to  set  it 
down  that  he  will  die.  We  are  told  that  it  is  chiefly 
the  drunken  and  dissipated  that  it  goes  hard  with,  and 
in  that  case,  your  father  will  not -be  in  danger." 

"  That  did  not  save  Mr.  Linley,"  replied  Mary ; 
"  and  therefore  we  have  little  reason  to  hope  it  will  be 
a  more  effectual  protection  to  him." 

"  But  perhaps  your  father's  constitution  may  be  a 
better  one,"  returned  the  mother ;  "  and  at  all  events, 
you  know,  Mary,  it  is  our  duty  to  hope  for  the  best, 
and  submit  to  the  worst  when  it  does  come ;  so  I  will 
go  to  bed  myself,  and  would  advise  you  to  do  the 
same,  and  hope  for  better  news  to-morrow." 

Mary,  with  a  shudder  that  she  could  not  repress,  at 
her  mother's  cold  and  insensible  behaviour,  rose  from 
her  kneeling  posture,  and  begging  her  parent  to  follow 
her  own  inclination  to  retire,  seated  herself,  with  her 
arms  clasped  across  her  bosom,  on  a  chair  by  the  win- 
dow ;  while  her  mother,  who  found  it  convenient  to 
take  it  for  granted  that  her  daughter  would  follow  her 
example,  immediately  withdrew,  and  was  soon,  as 
Mary  heard  through  the  thin  partition  that  divided 
them,  wrapped  in  a  sound  sleep. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  121 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  long  hours  of  darkness  were  spent  by  Mary  in 
alternate  prayers  for  her  father's  life,  and  in  supplica- 
tions for  patience  and  resignation  to  the  divine  will,  if 
it  was  decreed  that  she  was  to  be  deprived  of  almost 
the  only  friend  she  had  on  earth.  For  George  too  she 
also  fervently  prayed,  that  he  might  be  supported  and 
comforted  under  this  second  heavy  stroke  ;  and  for  the 
little  Louisa,  whose  unprotected  innocence  she  wept 
over  with  all  a  sister's  tenderness.  What  might  be 
these  young  people's  future  destiny,  she  was  totally  at 
a  loss  to  conjecture ;  but  as  they  had  no  relatives  in 
Baltimore,  or  any  very  near  ones  in  America,  she 
thought  it  probable  that  their  walks  in  life,  and  her  own, 
would  in  future  be  thrown  very  far  apart.  The  barrier 
which  fortune  had  hitherto  placed  between  them,  it 
the  distinction  that  exists  between  rich  and  poor,  had 
been  overcome,  by  the  peculiarly  liberal  and  benevo- 
lent feelings  of  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Linley.  They 
however  were  now  both  removed,  and  their  children 
lor  even  George  was  too  young  to  be  left  to  his  own 
government)  were  now  to  be  guided  by  other  opinions 
and  acted  upon  by  other  influences.  What  the  result 
might  be  to  their  future  characters  was  uncertain  ;  as  far 
as  Louisa,  at  least,  was  concerned,  the  change  might  be 
great  and  important ;  but  George  she  flattered  herself 
was  too  old,  and  his  principles  too  well  established,  for 
him  ever  under  any  circumstances  to  be  otherwise  than 
L 


1ZZ  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

honourable,  generous,  conscientious,  and  intelligent, 
His  mother  had,  in  the  last  conversation  she  had  with 
her,  spoken  in  the  handsomest  manner  of  the  effect 
which  her  example  had  produced  on  the  mind  of  her 
son,  both  in  softening  down  the  asperities  of  his  tem- 
per, and  in  cultivating  feelings  of  devotion  and  piety 
The  idea  had  been  nourished  ever  since  as  the  most 
delightful  that  had  ever  entered  her  mind  ;  for  to  think 
that  she  had  been  instrumental  in  forwarding  the  pro- 
gress of  the  son,  in  his  advancement  in  religion  and 
virtue,  gave  her  the  sweet  consciousness  of  having 
made  some  return  for  the  almost  unexampled  kindness 
which  she  had  received  from  the  parents.  '  The  proba- 
bility was  that  they  would  now  be  removed  far  apart 
from  each  other,  and  as  a  natural  consequence,  that  she 
would  soon  lose  that  warm  place  in  his  affections  that 
she  had  long  been  conscious  of  holding  ;  but  that  she 
would  always  be  remembered  by  him  with  warm  friend- 
ship she  was  well  assured,  and  she  breathed  a  heartfelt 
m-ayer  that  he  might  soon  meet  with  one  who  would 
ml  up  the  void  that  she  felt  would  be  made  in  his 
affections,  and  that  the  influence  might  ever  be 
exerted  for  the  promotion  of  his  welfare  and  happi- 
ness. For  herself,  when  she  thought  of  the  calamity 
which  in  all  probability  awaited  her,  she  could  see 
nothing  but  a  dark  and  gloomy  future.  The  natu- 
ral refinement  of  her  feelings,  together  with  the  culti- 
vation that  her  mind  had  received  from  education,  and 
from  associating  with  people  of  a  superior  order,  had 
made  her,  she  was  well  aware,  but  little  fitted  for  the 
path  of  life  that  she  seemed  destined  to  fill.  While 
under  her  father's  protection,  his  anxious  care  to  pre- 
serve her  from  every  thing  that  was  rude  or  gross,  and 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  123 

to  keep  her  from  forming  acquaintances  that  were 
likely  either  to  insult  her  self-respect  or  to  wound  her 
delicacy,  had  kept  her,  notwithstanding  every  other 
trial,  in  a  state  of  comparative  happiness.  But  should 
that  tender  and  watchful  guardian  be  removed,  how  great 
were  the  trials  to  which  she  was  likely  to  be  exposed. 
The  circumstance  of  being  obliged,  as  she  well  knew 
she  would  be,  to  make  immediate  exertion  for  her  own 
support,  she  considered  as  but  a  minor  evil,  for  this 
she  had  always  looked  upon  as  a  duty  which  she  would 
long  since  have  begun  to  practise,  had  not  her  father 
himself,  who  evidently  had  a  pleasure  in  thinking  she 
depended  on  him  alone,  always  discouraged  it.  Habits 
of  activity  and  industry  were  congenial  to  her  nature, 
and  hard  work  had  therefore  never  been  esteemed  by 
Mary  as  one  of  those  ills  of  life  which  fortune  had  assign- 
ed her.  But  when  she  thought  of  the  society  amongst 
which  she  was  likely  to  be  thrown,  when  no  longer 
protected  by  her  father's  watchful  care,  her  heart  sick- 
ened, and  she  shrunk  from  the  contemplation  of  ills 
which  she  feared  would  require  more  resolution  and 
fortitude  than  she  possessed,  to  enable  her  to  bear. 

"But  why  should  I  doubt  myself?"  she  would  say 
again,  rallying  her  courage  ;  "  of  what  avail  is  the  edu- 
cation I  have  received,  and  of  what  value  are  the  sen 
timents  of  piety  that  have  with  such  tender  care  been 
infused  into  my  mind,  if  they  forsake  me  in  the  time  of 
need  ?  Have  I  not  been  taught  in  whom  I  should 
place  my  trust ;  and  do  I  not  know  that  he  will  listen 
to  my  prayers  and  give  me  strength  in  the  hour  of 
need  ?  Yes  !  my  father,  my  dear,  dear  father,  if  the 
spirits  of  the  just  are  permitted  to  look  down  upon 
those  they  loved  on  earth,  you  shall  find  that  your 


124  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

child  does  not  disgrace  your  instructions,  but  that  she 
walks  through  life  with  such  a  spirit,  as  you,  even 
when  refined  from  all  earthly  dross,  will  delight  to  look 
down  upon.  And  surely  it  is  a  selfish  wish  that  would 
bind  you  down  to  this  lower  world,  merely  to  support 
and  comfort  me.  How  can  I,  when  I  think  of  the 
pain  and  labour  which  must  ever  have  been  your  por- 
tion here,  dare  to  regret  your  removal  to  a  happier  state 
of  existence  ?  O,  no  !  I  will  teach  myself  to  stfbmit  to 
the  decrees  of  Him,  who  is  ever  kind  and  merciful,  and 
should  it  be  his  will  that  we  no  more  meet  on  earth, 
my  soul  shall  be  supported  by  the  hope  of  that  reunion, 
when  we  are  told  there  will  be  no  more  parting." 

In  reflections  such  as  these,  did  Mary  wear  away  the 
dreary  hours  of  darkness,  and  though  the  morning  light 
brought  with  it  no  alleviation  to  her  anxiety,  it  found  her 
in  a  frame  of  mind  to  meet  whatever  might  befall  her 
with  firm  patience  and  unmurmuring  resignation.  From 
the  moment  she  heard  of  her  father's  being  attacked 
by  the  dreadful  disease,  she  had  scarcely  entertained 
the  slightest  hope  of  his  recovery,  and  all  her  efforts 
had  been  exerted  to  prepare  herself  for  the  fatal  blow. 
When  a  letter  therefore  was  put  into  her  hand,  the 
direction  of  which  she  recognised  as  the  writing  of  Mr. 

X of  Wilmington,  she  was  able  to  open  it,  and  read 

its  contents,  with  no  other  interruption  than  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  flood  of  tears  which  flowed  from  her 
eyes.  The  letter  was  as  follows  : — 

"Wilmington,  August  16th,  1832. 

"  Ml  DEAR  TOUJfO  FHIEXD, 

"  It  is  a  subject  of  extreme  regret  to  me,  that  the 
first  time  I  have  occasion  to  address  one  who  has 


-.. 

THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  125 

already  excited  so  warmly  my  respect  and  admiration, 
should  be  on  an  occasion  so  painful  as  the  present. 
Being  called,  a  few  days  ago,  by  the  duties  of  my 
my  office,  to  Powles  Hook,  where  the  cholera  had 
already  laid  hold  of  many  victims,  your  father,  whose 
ardent  piety  and  excellent  moral  character  had  before 
introduced  him  to  my  notice,  put  a  letter  into  my  hand, 
with  a  request  that  I  would  read  it  to  him.  I  need 
hardly  say,  that  it  was  your  beautiful  letter,  or  that  he 
listened  to  it  with  all  the  pride  of  a  father  and  the  exul- 
tation of  a  Christian.  I  mention  this  circumstance 
with  the  hope  it  will  mitigate  the  pain  that  I  am  obliged 
to  give  you,  to  think  that  your  last  communication  to 
your  beloved  parent  served  to  soothe  and  comfort  him 
in  the  midst  of  severe  bodily  suffering.  This  was  on 
the  Tuesday,  and  it  was  then  agreed  between  us,  that 
before  my  return  to  Wilmington,  on  the  Thursday,  I 
should  write  from  his  dictation  an  answer  to  your 
letter.  Before  that  day  arrived,  however,  I  was  too  much 
engaged  with  attending  upon  Mr.  Linley,  to  be  able 
to  fulfil  my  promise  ;  and,  indeed,  your  father  himself, 
who  never,  for  a  moment,  left  the  bedside  of  his  patron, 
was  too  much  occupied  to  think  of  any  thing  else.  We 
stood  together  by  the  bed  of  this  good  man  till  he 
breathed  his  last ;  and  your  father,  not  content  with 
having  given  him  his  faithful  services  as  long  as  life 
remained,  undertook  to  perform  all  the  necessary 
offices  for  the  dead,  nor  intended  to  leave  his  remains 
till  they  were  placed  under  the  care  of  his  own  family. 
Just,  however,  as  they  were  about  to  be  conveyed  to 
the  steamboat,  for  the  purpose  of  being  taken  home, 
your  dear  father  himself  was  seized  with  the  same 
direful  disease,  and  I  was  very  soon  called  upon  to 
L2 


126  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

perform  not  only  the  offices  of  benevolence,  but  to 
administer  the  rites  of  our  holy  religion  to  him.  I  am 
happy  to  say,  that  he  had  every  attention,  both  of  a 
religious  and  medical  kind,  that  could  be  desired ;  and 
though  all,  alas  !  proved  ineffectual  in  saving  his  life,  it 
is  a  great  consolation  to  his  surviving  friends,  to  think 
that  all  was  done  that  mortal  man  could  do,  to  render 
his  last  moments  easy  and  happy.  It  is  a  peculiar 
character  of  this  disease,  that  though  the  previous 
stages  are  marked  by  extreme  suffering,  the  last  mo- 
ments of  its  victims  are  invariably  composed  and  tran- 
quil ;  but  in  no  instances  have  I  seen  the  impress  of 
Almighty  God  marked  in  such  legible  characters  on 
the  human  countenance,  as  on  the  features  of  Mr. 
Linley  and  your  father.  Mr.  Linley  was  about  six 
hours  ill ;  your  father  eleven  ;  and  though,  from  the 
first,  he  seemed  to  believe  his  death  inevitable,  not  a 
regret  or  a  murmur  ever  escaped  his  lips.  He  spoke  fre- 
quently and  tenderly  of  you  ;  said  he  should  have  been 
very  happy  had  it  pleased  God  to  allow  him  to  remain 
with  you  till  you  were  placed  under  the  care  of  some 
other  protector,  or  at  least  till  you  had  a  few  more 
years'  experience  over  your  head  ;  but  that  he  had  every 
confidence  in  your  piety  and  virtue,  and  in  the  pro- 
tecting care  of  Almighty  Providence.  He  desired  me 
to  assure  you,  that  his  last  prayers  were  breathed  for 
you,  and  that  his  last  request  was,  that  you  would  say 
a  prayer  for  the  repose  of  his  soul  every  day  for  the 
next  twelve  months  ;  '  and  if,'  said  he,  '  the  prayers  of 
the  good  are  heard,  as  I  believe  they  are,  how  can  I 
fail  to  be  benefited  by  hers  ?  Tell  her,  too,'  he  added, 
'  not  to  grieve  immoderately  for  my  loss.  Life  has 
never  been  to  me  a  very  inviting  scene ;  indeed,  she 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  127 

has  herself  been  almost  the  only  sweet  that  has  min- 
gled in  my  cup.  She  has  always  been  like  a  heavenly 
spirit  watching  over  me,  and  I  hope  she  will  still  pray 
for  me,  and  bless  me.'  Let  me  then  hope,  my  dear  young 
friend,  that  you  will  comply  with  the  wishes  of  your 
dear  departed  parent,  and  not  allow  yourself  to  sorrow 
as  one  that  has  no  hope,  but  call  our  blessed  religion 
to  your  aid,  and  bow  with  submission  to  what  he  who 
knows  what  is  for  the  best,  has  seen  fit  to  decree. 

"  As  there  is  no  Catholic  burial  ground  in  this  place, 
I  had  your  father's  remains,  according  to  his  own 
request,  conveyed  in  the  same  boat  in  which  I  came 
myself  to  Wilmington  ;  and  he  was  interred  this  morn- 
ing, in  the  burial  ground  attached  to  the  church,  I 
myself  performing  the  service  over  his  remains. 

"  I  hope  to  be  in  Baltimore  in  the  course  of  a  few 
months,  and  shall  make  a  point  of  calling  upon  you, 
and  forming  a  personal  acquaintance  with  one  who  has 
given  so  early  a  promise  of  being  an  honour  to  the 
church  of  which  she  is  a  member,  by  her  faithful 
obedience  to  the  Master  she  has  chosen.  Believe  me 
to  be  your  faithful  and  sympathizing  friend, 

"J.  X." 

This  letter,  especially  as  Mary's  mind,  was  already 
prepared  for  the  intelligence  which  it  contained,  served 
rather  to  soothe  than  to  excite  her  feelings ;  and  she 
read  it  over,  first  to  herself,  and  then  to  her  mother, 
and  felt  only  more  and  more  comforted  by  the  perusal. 
Still,  however,  nature  would  have  its  course,  and  for 
many  days  the  tears  flowed  almost  unceasingly  over 
the  memory  of  her  dear  lost  parent ;  and  one  idea  took 
possession  of  her  mind,  for  the  accomplishment  of 


rZo  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

which  she  determined  to  labour  incessantly,  and  that 
was,  to  go  to  Wilmington,  and  pour  forth  her  prayers 
over  the  grave  of  the  father  she  had  so  fondly  loved, 
and  now  so  deeply  mourned.  There  is  nothing,  per- 
haps, that  tends  so  effectually  to  turn  the  current  of 
our  grief,  as  the  wish  to  accomplish  some  object  con- 
nected with  the  being  we  mourn ;  and  so  great  was  its 
influence  over  Mary's  mind,  that  her  mother,  who,  as 
she  expressed  herself,  had  expected  nothing  but  tears 
and  bewailing  and  praying  for  months  to  come,  with 
extreme  surprise,  on  the  second  week  after  the  arrival 

of  Mr.  X 's  letter,  saw  Mary  take  out  her  drawing 

materials,  and  seat  herself  with  great  earnestness  down 
to  her  work. 

"Well,  to  be  sure,"  exclaimed  the  unfeeling  woman, 
"  I  should  never  have  thought  this.  I  should  have 
expected,  even  if  I  had  died,  that  you  would  have  be- 
stowed two  weeks'  sorrow  upon  me  ;  but  when  that  is 
ail  that  your  father  gets,  I  suppose  three  hours  will  be 
as  much  as  I  need  to  look  for." 

"  Grief  is  not  always  shown  by  the  tears  we  shed," 
said  Mary,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  No  ;  but  sorrow  and  dry  eyes  do  not  go  very  often 
together.  But  I  fancy  you  find  some  comfort  from 
the  thought,-  that  you  will  be  rather  more  your  own 
mistress,  now  that  your  father  is  gone." 

"  How  can  I  be  that,  when  his  greatest  delight 
always  was  to  gratify  my  every  wish  ?"  asked  Mary, 
her  eyes  filling  with  tears  at  the  recollection  of  the 
unvarying  tenderness  of  the  parent  she  had  lost. 

"  Yes,  but  you  had  a  character  to  support  then,  that 
you  may  not  now  perhaps  give  yourself  quite  so  much 
trouble  about.  May  be  you  may  not  care  much 


THE    TWD    SCHOOLS.  129 

whether  1  think  you  quite  the  faultless  creature  that 
you  used  to  try  to  appear  before  him." 

"  As  to  being  faultless,  that  was  always  very  far 
from  my  power ;  but  the  necessity  of  trying  to  be  so 
can  never  vary,  for  that  is  a  religious  duty." 

"  O,  there  are  many  ways  of  getting  over  such 
duties,  when  we  depend  upon  our  own  judgment  only. 
Conscience  is  a  convenient  thing,  and  can  easily  be 
bribed  to  take  whatever  side  we  like." 

"  I  have  never  found  it  so,"  said  Mary,  quietly. 

"  But  it  is  possible  you  may  find  it  so,  when 
temptation  comes  in  the  way,"  returned  the  mother, 
colouring  with  shame  and  mortification,  at  the  gentle 
rebuke  of  her  daughter.  "  I  suppose  if  George  Linley 
happened  to  come  in  the  way,  you  would  not  be  very 
ready  to  listen  to  what  your  conscience  was  inclined 
to  say  to  you.  Nor  would  you,  I  reckon,  shed  many 
tears  for  your  father's  death  at  the  time." 

"  George  never  in  his  life  tried  to  make  me  shut  my 
ears  to  the  voice  of  conscience,  and  as  my  dear  father 
was  always  proud  of  the  kindness  that  I  received  from 
the  Linley  family,  I  do  not  know  why  I  should  mourn 
his  loss  less  on  their  account." 

"  Ay,  very  fine !  then  I  suppose  you  will  make 
that  an  excuse  for  following  your  own  inclinations 
without  condescending  to  consult  my  wishes.  I  of 
course  am  only  your  mother,  and  do  not  deserve  to  be 
taken  into  consideration  !" 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  Mary,  raising  her  fine  eyes 
to  her  mother's  face,  with  an  expression  of  almost 
heavenly  sweetness,  "  my  father  and  you  often  differed 
very  widely  on  many  points  of  my  conduct ;  and  as  it 
was  therefore  impossible  that  I  could  obey  both,  my 


130  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

only  resource  was,  to  act  according  to  the  wishes  of 
the  one  that  I  believed  to  be  in  the  right.  I  now, 
however,  have  only  one  parent  to  obey,  and  it  shall 
be  the  study  of  my  life  to  comply  with  her  wishes  in 
all  things  that  are  not  inconsistent  with  religion  and 
virtue." 

"  Will  you  promise  me,  then,"  cried  the  mother 
eagerly;  "will  you  swear  that  you  will  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  that  family  that  I  hate  as  I  do  the 
grave  ?" 

"  I  promise  you,"  replied  Mary,  with  a  deep  sigh, 
which  she  tried  in  vain  to  repress,  "  that  I  will  not 
keep  up  any  intercourse  with  them,  nor  will  ever, 
should  they  happen  to  come  in  my  way,  have  any 
more  conversation  with  them  than  bare  civility  re- 
quires." 

"  I  will  put  you  to  the  trial,"  said  the  unfeeling 
woman,  taking,  as  she  spoke,  a  sealed  letter  out  of  her 
'bag,  and  laying  it  down  on  the  table  before  her  daugh- 
ter ;  "  this  came  from  George  Linley  yesterday.  I 
give  it  you,  but  at  the  same  time  I  command  you  not 
to  read  it.  Now  we  will  see  how  far  your  duty  and 
obedience  will  carry  you." 

Mary  looked  at  the  well  known  characters,  and  then 
put  her  hands  before  her  eyes,  as  if  unwilling  to  ex- 
pose herself  to  the  pain  of  gazing  upon  them.  The 
struggle  was  a  severe  one.  This  letter  was  from  one 
that  had  ever  shown  her  the  most  affectionate  tender- 
ness. In  writing  it,  he  had  no  doubt  sought  sympathy 
for  his  own  griefs,  as  well  as  having  proffered  it  in 
the  kindest  manner  for  hers.  Besides,  she  had  noticed 
even  in  the  short  glimpse  that  she  had  taken  of  the 
letter,  that  it  had  a  post  mark  on  it,  which  she  at 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  131 

least  knew  was  not  the  Baltimore  stamp.  It  was  evi- 
dent therefore  that  he  was  not  in  the  city,  but  whither 
he  was  gone,  or  what  distance  now  divided  them,  she 
could  not  conjecture ;  and  though  she  asked  herself 
repeatedly,  of  what  consequence  it  was,  if  they  were 
no  longer  to  have  any  intercourse,  how  far  they  were 
separated,  yet  there  is  too  much  pleasure  in  the  idea 
of  being  near  those  we  love,  for  her  to  feel  this  to  be  a 
matter  of  indifference.  But  even  this  small  gratifica- 
tion was  denied  her  ;  she  could  no  longer  enjoy  his 
friendship,  nor  was  even  the  gratification  of  occasion- 
ally catching  a  glimpse  of  his  person,  any  longer  in 
her  power.  Her  mind  ranged  for  an  instant  round 
the  circle  of  her  acquaintance,  and,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  and  her  pastoral  guides, 
who,  though  always  kind,  could  not  be  considered  in 
the  light  of  associates,  she  had  not  a  single  friend  but 
himself,  to  whom  she  could  look  for  kindness  and 
sympathy. 

The  sacrifice,  however,  was  to  be  made,  duty  re- 
quired it ;  and  with  respect  to  obeying  such  a  demand, 
when  no  doubts  obscured  the  path,  Mary  had  never 
been  accustomed  to  hesitate.  After  dropping  a  few  tears, 
therefore,  over  the  friend  whom  she  was  thus  called 
upon  to  resign,  she  held  out  the  letter  to  her  mother, 
but  without  permitting  herself  to  cast  another  glance 
upon  it,  and  said,  "  Take  it ;  I  will  not  read  it.  I  will 
never "  but  here  her  voice  refused  all  further  utter- 
ance, and  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  resting 
her  elbows  on  the  table  before  her,  she  gave  vent  to  a 
violent  flood  of  tears.  Her  mother  hastened  into  the 
kitchen,  for  the  purpose,  Mary  doubted  not,  of  burning 
the  letter  that  she  would  have  sacrificed  any  thing  but 


132  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

duty  for  the  sake  of  reading,  and  the  subject  was  no 
more  mentioned. 

If  any  one  has  arrived  at  such  an  elevation  above 
the  usual  feelings  of  humanity,  as  to  think  this  but  a 
small  trial,  let  them  recollect  the  very  early  age  of  this 
humble  follower  of  her  Divine  Master,  as  well  as  the 
few,  the  very  few  earthly  comforts  that  had  ever  been 
within  her  reach ;  as  well  as  the  entire  deprivation  of 
them  that  was  now  likely  to  be  her  portion,  and  we 
trust  they  will  give  our  heroine  no  small  credit  for  her 
pious  sacrifice. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  133 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IT  is  happy  for  those  who  are  called  upon  to  make 
a  sacrifice  to  the  cause  of  virtue,  that  the  very  act 
itself,  however  painful  it  may  be,  carries  with  it  that 
delightful  reward  which  always  accompanies  the  per- 
formance of  our  duty ;  and  that  this  pleasure  increases 
in  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  effort  which  had 
been  required  for  its  accomplishment ;  and  doubly 
happy  was  it  for  poor  Mary  that  such  comfort  was  now 
granted  to  support  and  strengthen  her  sinking  spirits, 
for  little  else  was  now  within  her  power.  But  a  few 
months  before,  she  had  been  under  the  protection  of 
kind  and  influential  friends  ;  but  these,  together  with 
her  ever  kind  father,  were  now  taken  from  her,  and 
even  the  sympathy  of  one  who  was  bound  to  her  by 
mutual  sufferings  as  well  as  affection,  she  was  for- 
bidden to  indulge  in.  She  now,  therefore,  stood  alone 
in  the  world,  or  what  was  worse,  she  would,  her  heart 
told  her,  have  to  contend,  unassisted,  against  unkind- 
ness,  poverty,  and  persecution.  The  trial  was  a  severe 
one,  but  she  was  resolved  to  brace  herself  for  the  con- 
flict with  a  firm  and  determined  spirit ;  and  amidst  the 
various  ills  that  surrounded  her,  to  avoid  that  worst  of 
evils,  a  self-upbraiding  conscience.  She  had  promised 
her  mother,  in  compliance  with  the  obedience  which 
her  religion  enjoined,  to  withhold  from  all  intercourse 
with  the  only  beings  in  whom  her  affections  were 
strongly  interested,  and  though  the  dislike  that  her 
M 


134 


TKK    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


unhappy  parent  had  evinced  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Linley 
and  had  now  transmitted,  in  its  full  rigour,  to  their 
children,  was  to  her  wholly  inexplicable  ;  the  sacrifice 
had  been  required,  the  promise  had  been  given,  and 
she  was  determined  it  should  be  faithfully  observed. 
One  only  object  of  interest,  therefore,  now  remained 
to  break  the  dreary  void  which  lay  before  her,  and 
that  was  the  favourite  idea  of  visiting  her  father's 
grave,  and  mingling  her  tears  and  prayers  over  the 
spot  that  was  hallowed  by  his  beloved  remains.  This, 
however,  she  was  well  aware  would  be  a  difficult  task 
to  perform,  as  she  had  little  doubt  that  the  utmost  of 
her  efforts  would  be  required  to  assist  in  the  necessary 
support  of  her  mother  and  herself.  Her  father,  when 
in  Baltimore,  had  acted  as  porter  at  one  of  the  princi- 
pal hotels  in  the  city,  in  which  situation  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  making  more  money  than  a  common 
labourer  generally  does,  and  his  frugality  and  economy 
had  always  turned  his  earnings  to  the  best  account. 
Still,  however,  though  she  knew  he  had  saved  some 
trifling  sum,  she  was  sure  it  could  only  be  a  very  small 
one  ;  as  his  ambition,  on  her  account,  had  led  him  into 
very  considerable  expenses  in  her  education,  and  had 
likewise  induced  him  to  live  in  a  better  house,  and  to 
enable  her  to  enjoy  many  little  refinements  that  might 
not  be  considered  altogether  suited  to  his  circum- 
stances. When,  after  his  death,  however,  she  ven- 
tured to  suggest  to  her  mother  the  propriety  of  dimi- 
nishing their  expenses,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
find  the  proposal  treated  with  scorn,  and  that  every 
suggestion  respecting  economy  was  only  answered  by 
her  parent  with  a  request  that  such  matters  might  be 
left  to  her.  This  behaviour,  so  far  from  relieving  her, 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  135 

only  added  to  her  anxiety,  for  as  her  mother  had  never 
been  in  the  habit  of  showing  herself  to  be  indifferent 
about  pecuniary  matters,  she  could  not  suppose  her 
present  unconcern  arose  from  carelessness  ;  and,  there- 
fore, was  led  to  suspect  that  she  had  resources  of 
which  she  herself  was  ignorant.  About  the  nature  of 
these  resources  she  could  not  but  feel  exceedingly 
anxious,  but  in  vain  she  strove  to  discover  from  whence 
they  sprung.  Her  mother  had  never  been  in  the  habit 
of  treating  her  with  the  frankness  and  confidence  that 
such  a  daughter  had  a  right  to  expect,  and  discovered 
little  disposition  now  to  break  through  her  usual 
reserve ;  but  answered  any  accidental  remark,  that 
Mary  ventured  to  make,  by  simply  saying,  that  though 
not  rich,  they  were  far  from  having  been  left  so  desti- 
tute as  Mary  seemed  to  imagine. 

As  she  found  it  impossible,  therefore,  to  gain  any 
further  information,  the  gentle  girl  determined  to  sub- 
mit patiently  to  circumstances  that  she  found  she  could 
not  control,  though  she  secretly  resolved  not  to  make 
any  further  use  of  her  mother's  means  than  was  barely 
requisite  for  the  supply  of  her  necessities,  till  better  in- 
formed of  the  source  whence  they  were  derived.  When 
purchasing  mourning,  though  her  mother  would  gladly 
have  provided  her  with  a  very  handsome  bombasin 
dress,  and  every  other  article  in  unison,  Mary  steadily 
refused  to  wear  any  thing  better  than  a  very  common 
bombazette  one,  with  every  other  thing  on  an  equality ; 
unless  she  could  be  perfectly  satisfied  that  circum- 
stances authorized  such  a  deviation  from  the  rigid  eco- 
nomy to  which  she  had  limited  herself ;  but  no  inclina- 
tion to  remove  her  difficulties  was  evinced,  while  her 
mother  merely  said,  that,  "  if  Mary,  young  as  she 


1.76  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

was,  chose  to  go  upon  the  plan  of  self-denial,  it  was  no 
reason  why  she  should  practise  it  also  ;  especially, 
as  she  did  not  pretend  to  act  up  to  all  the  rigours  of  the 
Catholic  doctrine  ;  and  that  she  would  therefore  provide 
herself  with  such  a  suit  of  mourning  as  would  prove 
the  respect  she  had  for  the  memory  of  him  for  whom 
she  wore  it."  Mary  sighed  over  the  self-delusion  of 
her  unhappy  parent,  and  renewed  her  resolutions  to 
prove  her  respect  and  affection  for  her  beloved  father 
by  her  anxious  endeavours  to  become  all  that  he  could 
have  wished  her  to  be.  One  circumstance,  and  one 
alone,  seemed  to  present  itself  to  relieve  her  present 
unhappy  situation.  She  found  that  since  the  day  that 
Smith  had  brought  the  tidings  of  Mr.  Linley's  death, 
the  frequency  of  his  visits  had  ceased,  and  that  during 
the  very  few  times  that  he  had  been  at  the  house,  he 
had  honoured  her  with  but  a  small  portion  of  his  atten- 
tion. Flattering  herself  therefore  that  her  ready  com- 
pliance with  her  mother's  wishes  with  regard  to 
George  Linley  had  produced  such  an  effect  upon  her 
mind  as  to  induce  her  to  relent  in  her  cruel  determina- 
tion of  forcing  Smith's  attentions  upon  her,  she  began 
to  feel  some  faint  hope  kindle  in  her  bosom,  of  being 
able  to  make  a  friend  of  her  surviving  parent.  Another 
circumstance  which  helped  to  relieve  the  dreary  gloom 
that  had  enveloped  her  mind  from  the  moment  she 
heard  of  her  father's  death  was,  the  ready  compliance 
that  her  mother  had  given  to  her  going  to  Wilmington, 
to  visit  her  father's  grave.  She  had  not  only  consented 
to  her  going,  but  had  even  offered  to  supply  her  with 
the  means  of  doing  so  immediately ;  but  the  same  mo- 
tive which  had  induced  Mary  to  refuse  all  superfluous 
expense  with  regard  to  her  mourning,  operating  in  her 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  137 

mind  with  equal  force  in  the  present  instance  ;  her 
visit  was  deferred  for  a  couple  of  months,  by  which 
time  she  had  no  doubt  she  would  be  possessed  of 
funds,  derived  from  her  own  personal  exertions,  suffi- 
cient to  meet  all  the  necessary  expenses  of  her  little 
trip,  and  the  cessation  which  must  of  course  take  place 
in  her  employments  during  her  absence  from  home. 
By  that  time  too  the  beautiful  month  of  October  would 
be  set  in,  a  period  so  favourable  for  every  undertaking  ; 
?nd  Mary,  who  did  not  remember  ever  to  have  been  five 
miles  out  of  Baltimore  in  her  life,  had  that  which  is  so 
necessary  to  the  happiness  of  every  youthful  mind,  a 
time  to  look  forward  to,  a  something  to  contemplate,  the 
accomplishment  of  which  was  to  be  a  source  of  com- 
parative happiness.  Before  October  had  commenced, 
however,  Mary  found  that  fresh  disappointments  were 
awaiting  her  ;  for  her  mother's  health  began  gradually 
to  decline,  and  before  the  month  was  far  advanced,  it 
was  in  such  a  state  that  Mary  found  it  impossible  to 
leave  her. 

"  I  must  try  to  get  some  steady  attentive  woman  to 
be  with  me  while  you  are  away,"  said  the  mother  one 
day,  as  her  duteous  daughter  performed  some  little  act 
of  attention  towards  her. 

"  You  do  not  imagine,  dear  mother,  that  I  would 
leave  you  while  you  stand  in  any  such  need  of  help  ?" 
said  Mary,  in  a  tone  of  unaffected  surprise. 

"  Why  should  you  not?"  asked  the  invalid.  "  There 
are  plenty  of  good  nurses  to  be  hired ;  and  I  would 
rather  have  some  one  with  me  that  has  had  more 
experience  in  sickness  than  you." 

"  You  can  have  such  a  one,  if  you  choose,"  an- 
swered Mary;  "  for  there  is  no  doubt  you  can  easily 
K9 


1<JO  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

hire  a  better  nurse  than  I  am.  Affection,  however, 
you  cannot  purchase  ;  and  that  it  shall  be  my  business 
to  stay  at  home  and  administer." 

"  You  can  make  the  profession,  at  least,"  said  the 
unhappy  woman ;  "  but  it  would  not  be  easy  to  per- 
suade me  into  the  belief  of  your  having  the  feeling." 

"  Whether  you  will  believe  it  or  not,  you  shall  at 
least  have  the  proofs  ;  and  they  shall  be  such  undeni- 
able ones,  that  I  hope  even  you,  my  dear  mother,  will 
not  be  able  to  resist  them  ;"  and  as  she  spoke,  the 
amiable  girl  stooped  down  and  impressed  a  kiss  upon 
her  parent's  cheek. 

The  mother  turned  away  her  head,  and  uttered  a 
groan  that  seemed  to  come  from  her  very  heart ;  and 
Mary,  for  an  instant,  hoped,  that  for  once,  an  impres- 
sion had  been  made  on  her  feelings  ;  but  the  hope  was 
short-lived :  in  a  few  minutes  she  looked  and  talked  in 
her  usual  rigid  and  repulsive  manner,  and  poor  Mary 
heaved  a  sigh  of  disappointment. 

The  month  of  October  passed  away,  and  the  scarcely 
less  beautiful  one  of  November  followed  after  it,  and 
Mary  found  her  mother  still  in  a  state  of  health  in  which 
it  would  be  impossible  to  leave  her,  though  her  parent 
often  urged  her  to  do  so,  and  was  even  angry  at  her 
not  complying.  The  Christmas  week  was  then  fixed 
upon  for  the  trip  ;  but  when  it  arrived,  Mary  found  her 
mother  as  unfit  to  be  left  as  ever  ;  and  the  frosts  now 
beginning  to  set  in,  the  project  was  abandoned  alto- 
gether till  the  return  of  spring.  The  spring,  however, 
when  it  came,  was  little  more  favourable  than  the 
autumn  had  been ;  Mary  found  that  her  mother  still 
remained  weak,  languid,  and  incapable  of  the  least 
exertion ;  besides  which,  her  own  time  had  been  so 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  139 

entirely  taken  up  with  nursing,  that  she  had  been 
obliged  to  draw,  from  time  to  time,  out  of  the  small 
"und  which  she  had  laid  aside  for  her  expedition,  such 
sums  as  the  necessary  supply  of  clothing  required,  till 
it  was  so  fur  impoverished  that  some  further  time  was 
wanted  to  replenish  it.  It  was  the  latter  end  of  June 
before  this  was  done ;  but  being  kindly  invited,  about 
this  time,  to  visit  Wilmington,  under  the  protection  of 
some  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  and  remain  in  the 
Orphan  Asylum  while  there,  and  her  mother's  health 
being  much  improved  by  the  warm  weather,  it  was 
determined  that  she  should  no  longer  defer  the  execu- 
tion of  her  intentions.  It  was  on  this  visit  that  this 
sweet  girl  was  seen  by  the  Monktons,  and  so  strongly 
interested  their  feelings,  by  the  elegance  of  her  figure, 
the  gracefulness  of  her  motions,  and  the  deep  and  heart- 
felt piety  which  her  whole  manner  exhibited.  But  if 
their  admiration  was  thus  so  warmly  excited  without 
one  glance  having  been  obtained  of  her  beautiful  and 
expressive  countenance,  what  would  have  been  their 
feelings,  had  they  seen  her  dark  blue  eyes,  beaming 
with  sentiment  and  intelligence, her  finely  pencilled  eye- 
brows, her  beautifully  formed  nose,  and  rich  lips,  which, 
on  parting,  discovered  two  rows  of  •teeth  that  looked 
like  well-set  pearls;  the  beauty  of  which  was  improved 
by  a  complexion  of  the  purest  white  ;  and  though  the 
rose  on  her  cheeks  had  not  the  florid  tinge  common  in 
colder  climates,  it  far  exceeded  in  brilliancy  that  which 
we  generally  see  on  the  cheeks  of  the  females  of  this 
warm  climate.  It  was,  however,  the  character  of  feel- 
ing which  pervaded  her  general  appearance,  and  which, 
however  it  may  be  heightened  by  beauty,  carries  with 
it  a  more  powerful  influence  than  mere  beauty  can  ever 


140  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

boast,  that  interested  so  powerfully  the  feelings  of  the 
strangers,  and  made  them  anxious  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  this  highly-favoured  being.  Circum- 
stances, however,  as  we  already  know,  disappointed 
their  wishes  at  the  lime  ;  for  when  Mary  rose  from  her 
father's  grave,  unconscious  fhat  a  single  eye  had  rested 
on  her  while  kneeling  there,  and  returned  to  the  Asy 
him,  she  found  a  peremptory  order  from  her  mother 
awaiting  her,  desiring  her  to  accompany  the  messen- 
ger, a  neighbour  with  whom  she  was  well  acquainted, 
in  the  first  conveyance  that  should  offer  itself  after  she 
received  her  message.  Mary,  though  she  had  enjoyed 
herself  more  during  her  short  stay  at  Wilmington  than 
she  had  done  for  many  months  before,  did  not  hesitate 
a  moment  to  obey,  and  arrived  at  home  before  her 
mother  had  begun  even  to  look  for  her.  But  if  a  short 
interval  of  peace  had  been  allowed  amongst  the  pious 
Sisters,  a  sad  reverse  now  awaited  her ;  for  one  of  the 
first  pieces  of  intelligence  that  greeted  her,  on  her  re- 
turn, was,  that  her  mother  thinking  it  right,  as  she 
said,  to  do  something  towards  assisting  their  expenses, 
had  been  induced  to  take  Mr.  Smith  into  the  house  as 
a  boarder.  "But,  dear  me,"  cried  she,  as  she  saw 
Mary  change  colour,  and  look  exceedingly  agitated, 
"  why  need  you  turn  so  pale,  and  look  as  if  some  great 
misfortune  had  befallen  you  ?  I  see  no  reason  why 
you  need  to  care  for  Mr.  Smith ;  I  am  sure  he  does 
not  care  for  you." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  find  that  is  the  case,"  said 
Mary,  making  a  violent  effort  to  suppress  her  emotion. 

"  And  you  will  find  it  to  be  the  case,"  answered  her 
mother ;  "  for  I  do  not  suppose  he  will  often  take  the 
trouble  of  even  speaking  to  you  ;  and  I  have  engaged 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  141 

to  take  the  charge  of  his  room  entirely  on  myself;  so 
that,  considering  how  much  he  is  at  the  office,  you 
will  have  very  little  to  do  with  him." 

Always  willing  to  hope  the  best,  Mary  tried  to  per- 
suade herself  that  she  might,  indeed,  have  been  unne- 
cessarily alarmed;  and  as  it  was  the  case,  that  the 
young  man,  during  their  short  meals,  which  was  the 
only  time  that  she  ever  remained  in. the  room  with 
him,  did  really  address  but  a  very  small  portion  of  his 
conversation  to  her,  and  took  little  pains,  in  any  way, 
to  force  himself  upon  her  notice,  she  began  to  think 
she  had  been  altogether  mistaken  in  the  suspicions 
which  she  had  entertained  of  him,  and  even  to  believe 
that  she  was  an  object  of  indifference  to  him.  Nay, 
she  even  began  to  hope,  that  her  mother  herself  had 
more  delicacy  of  feeling  respecting  her  than  she  had 
hitherto  imagined,  when  she  found,  that  though  her 
former  indisposition  had  returned  upon  her,  and  that  it 
•was  with  considerable  effort  that  she  managed  to  crawl 
about  the  house,  she  still  scrupulously  avoided  laying 
claim  to  any  of  Mary's  assistance,  as  far  as  regarded 
Mr.  Smith's  apartment,  which  she  took  so  much  trou- 
ble in  arranging  as  often  to  keep  her  engaged  in  it  for 
hours  at  a  time.  Surprised  at  her  taking  all  this 
trouble  herself,  without  admitting  the  slightest  assist- 
ance to  be  given  to  her,  Mary  could  not  help  supposing 
that  her  declining  health  had  led  her  to  more  serious 
reflections  than  had  hitherto  been  usual  with  her ;  and 
she  nursed  the  fond  hope,  that  this  long-continued 
sickness  might  eventually  work  an  important  and 
happy  change  in  the  state  of  her  mother's  mind. 
Under  this  impression,  Mary  one  day  ventured  to  sug- 
gest the  propriety  of  her  mother's  sending  for  a  clergy- 


142  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

man  to  converse  with  her ;  but  the  idea  was  rejected 
with  disdain.  "  No,"  said  she,  "  though  your  father 
persuaded  me,  when  I  was  young  and  foolish,  to 
imagine  myself  a  Catholic,  and  to  get  myself  received 
into  the  church,  I  have  long  since  learned  better  than  to 
believe  that  either  a  priest,  or  any  other  man,  can  take 
my  sins  off  my  shoulders.  There  they  are,  and  there 
they  must  stay,  and  I  must  take  my  chance  with  them." 

"  It  is  very  sure,  that  no  one  can  take  away  our 
sins,  unless  we  are  ourselves  willing  to  part  with 
them,"  said  Mary;  "but  if  we  sincerely  repent,  what 
can  be  so  great  a  relief  to  the  oppressed  mind,  as  to 
unbosom  ourselves  to  one  of  the  appointed  servants  of 
God,  and  to  have  his  advice,  his  prayers,  and  his 
promise  of  pardon  ?" 

"  And  what  good  will  such  promises  do  to  me," 
asked  the  unhappy  woman  ;  "  will  they  wash  off  the 
black  spots  of  guilt  with  which  my  soul  is  stained  ?" 

"  Their  services  of  themselves,  my  dear  mother,  can 
do  nothing,  certainly,"  remonstrated  the  pious  girl ; 
"but  our  own  contrition,  our  ov/n  repentance  and 
humble  penitence,  will  ascend  on  their  prayers  to  the 
throne  of  mercy,  and  we  shall  receive,  through  them, 
that  assurance  of  forgiveness  that  can  alone  speak 
peace  to  the  contrite  spirit.  Do,  dearest  mother,  only 
think  of  this,"  said  Mary,  her  fine  eyes  kindling  as 
she  spoke,  and  her  beautiful  countenance  brightening 
with  the  heavenly  glow  of  religious  enthusiasm,  "  only 
think  of  this.  Relieve  your  mind  from  the  weight  of 
sin  that  oppresses  it,  and  prepare  yourself  either  for 
the  awful  change  of  death,  or  for  a  lengthened  and  far 
happier  life  than  you  have  hitherto  known." 

"  And  how  did  you  happen  to  know  so  well  that  my 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  143 

conscience  is  burdened  with  a  load  of  sin?"  asked  the 
invalid,  while  her  whole  frame  shook  with  agitation. 
"  Who  gave  you  authority  to  pronounce  your  mother 
so  great  a  sinner  ?" 

"  O,  do  not  misunderstand  me,"  said  Mary,  earn- 
estly ;  "I  do  not  mean  to  accuse  you  of  greater  sins 
than  we  have  any  of  us  to  answer  for.  I  only  urge 
you  to  that  which  I  know,  by  experience,  to  be  so 
great  a  relief  to  the  overcharged  heart." 

"  It  is  such  as  you  going  to  confession  that  makes 
me  suspect  the  whole  thing  to  be  a  piece  of  nonsense," 
returned  the  mother.  "  When  such  as  you,  who  never 
in  your  life  injured  man  or  offended  God,  are  made  to 
confess  sins  of  which  you  were  never  guilty,  I  can 
only  look  upon  it  as  a  trick  of  the  priests  to  increase 
their  own  consequence  and  power." 

"  But  you  do  not  represent  the  thing  fairly,"  remon 
strated  Mary ;  "  for  it  is  not  that  I  am  forced  to  con 
fession  by  any  other  means  than  by  a  sense  of  my 
sins,  and  a  wish  to  obtain  forgiveness  for  them.  And 
if  you,  dear  mother,  were  to  send  for  a  clergyman,  and 
unbosom  yourself  to  him,  it  would  not,  surely,  be  he 
who  forced  you,  but  your  own  consciousness  of  having 
sinned,  and  your  wish  to  humble  yourself  before  the 
throne  of  grace." 

"  Well ;  when  I  feel  that  I  am  in  danger  of  appear- 
ing there,  I  may,  perhaps,  try  to  make  a  suitable 
appearance,"  returned  the  hardened  woman,  with  a 
sneer  ;  "  but  till  then,  I  believe  I  shall  remain  as  I  am." 

Mary,  perceiving  the  little  effect  produced  by  what 
she  had  said,  breathed  the  silent  prayer,  that  her  mo- 
ther might  not  find  that  she  had  put  off  beyond  the 
eleventh  hour  ;  but  she  refrained  from  any  farther  reply. 


ill  THE   TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

FROM  the  time  of  Smith's  being  their  inmate,  Mary 
had  been  her  mother's  bed-fellow,  and  as  she  had 
always  been  in  the  habit  of  retiring  to  her  room  before 
the  time  of  Smith's  returning  from  the  office,  it  was 
of  course  a  usual  thing  for  her  to  be  roused  from  her 
first  sleep  by  her  mother's  coming  to  bed.  A  few 
nights  however,  after  the  conversation,  we  have  just 
mentioned,  she  was  not  only  wakened  by  the  opening 
of  the  door,  as  her  mother  entered  the  room,  but 
startled  at  hearing  her  say,  as  if  to  some  one  at  the 
outside  of  the  door,  "  You  may  leave  me  now,  I  am 
better,  and  can  take  care  of  myself."  The  moment  the 
door  was  closed,  Mary  started  up  and  inquired  of  her 
mother  if  she  were  worse  than  usual ;  but  before  the 
inquiry  was  well  made,  she  was  exceedingly  alarmed 
by  seeing  her  mother  fall  apparently  lifeless  on  the 
floor.  In  her  fall,  the  lamp  which  the  invalid  had 
held  in  her  hand  was  dashed  to  a  distance,  and  extin- 
guished ;  so  that  Mary's  first  object  was  to  hasten 
down  stairs,  and  procure  another  light.  In  doing  this 
she  had  to  pass  Smith's  room,  and  was  not  a  little 
surprised  as  she  came  near  the  door,  to  hear  two  or 
three  voices,  as  if  in  consultation  whether  they  should 
make  any  inquiry  into  the  cause  of  the  noise,  which 
the  fall  had  occasioned.  Mary,  however,  was  too 
much  in  alarm  about  her  mother,  to  give  the  circum- 
stance much  of  her  attention  at -the  time,  and  procuring 


THE    TWQ    SCHOOLS.  145 

the  light,  she  hastened  hark  to  the  chamber,  where 
she  found  her  mother  writhing  in  all  the  agonies  of  a 
strong  convulsion.  Under  such  circumstances,  her 
reluctance  to  apply  even  to  Smith  himself  could  not 
but  give  way  ;  and  hastening  to  the  chamber-door,  she 
called  to  him,  and  requested  him  to  go  for  the  physician 
This  he  did  with  all  possible  despatch,  while  Mary 
sat  watching  the  shocking  contortions  of  countenance 
which  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  beholder  so  dreadful 
an  idea  of  suffering.  In  this  dreadful  situation,  every 
thing  was  forgotten,  in  the  mind  of  the  amiable  girl, 
except  that  it  was  her  mother  who  lay  stretched  before 
her,  as  she  believed,  in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  she 
wept  over  her  in  all  the  tenderness  of  affection.  Their 
conversation  on  the  subject  of  preparing  for  death 
came  with  a  shudder  across  her  mind,  as  she  viewed 
the  distorted  form  of  her  who  had  so  lately  spurned 
with  so  much  hardihood  the  thought  of  that  dread 
tribunal  at  which  she  seemed  about  to  be  called  upon 
to  appear,  and  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  poured  forth 
heartfelt  and  earnest  supplications,  that  the  unhappy 
sufferer  might  be  spared  to  have  one  more  chance  to 
prepare  for  the  great  change  that  was  at  hand,  by  the 
offerings  of  a  penitent  and  contrite  spirit.  Though 
Mary's  anxiety  made  the  time  appear  long,  very  few 
minutes  elapsed  before  the  physician  was  at  the  side 
of  the  invalid,  and  a  neighbour  or  two  having  been  like- 
wise brought  by  Smith,  every  necessary  assistance  was 
soon  provided ;  but  though  the  convulsions  were  soon 
overcome,  a  state  of  insensibility  and  exhaustion  suc- 
ceeded, which  appeared  to  be  only  the  forerunner  of 
final  dissolution.  Anxiously  did  the  weeping  daughtei 
watch  foi  some  symptom  of  returning  consciousness 
N 


146  THE > TWO  SCHOOLS, 

to  propose  sending  for  a  clergyman ;  but  the  mind 
seemed  to  have  preceded  the  body  in  its  progress  to 
decay  ;  and  Mary  could  noj  but  reflect  with  horror  on 
the  wretched  situation  of  those  who  pjt  off  their  pre- 
parations for  death  till  they  were  actually  in  his 
presence,  since  the  bed  of  sickness,  even  where  the 
mind  is  permitted  to  retain  undisturbed  possession  of 
its  mansion,  must  ever  afford  very  insufficient  means 
of  making  up  for  an  ill-spent  life. 

Hour  after  hour  passed  away, -while  Mary  and  her 
companions,  whose  number  had  increased  as  the 
morning  advanced,  by  the  addition  of  several  other 
neighbours,  sat  watching  every  moment,  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  seeing  the  spirit  take  its  flight;  and  the 
weeping  daughter,  forgetting  that,  in  the-  expiring 
parent,  she  beheld  the  bitterest  enemy  she  had  ever 
known,  considered  her  only  in  her  character  as  her 
mother,  and  as  the  wife  of  her  beloved  father,  and 
hung  sobbing  over  her  pillow,  in  the  most  heartfelt 
grief. 

Though  the  forenoon  was  now  far  advanced,  her 
friends  tried  in  vain  to  induce  her  to  leave  the  side  of 
the  invalid  for  a  moment,  to  take  the  slightest  nourish- 
ment. She  dreaded  lest  a  momentary  consciousness 
should  return,  and  she  not  be  by  to  take  advantage  of  it ; 
and  she  resolved,  whatever  it  might  cost  herself,  not  to 
let  such  an  opportunity  be  lost,  of  making  a  proposal 
that  she  deemed  so  essential. 

At  length,  as  if  Heaven  had  looked  with  mercy  on 
her  virtuous  endeavours,  the  sufferer  opened  her  eyes, 
with  an  expression  of  consciousness,  and  fixing  them 
upon  her  weeping  daughter,  she  cried,  "  Where  am  I? 
\m  I  still  on  earth,  or  am  I  already  gone  to  my  final 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  147 

noom  ?  Is  this  really  the  being  that  I  have  persecuted 
through  life  so  bitterly  ?  or  is  it  her  angel  spirit  plead- 
ing for  me  at  the  footstool  of  eternal  grace  ?" 

"  My  dear,  dear  mother,"  said  Mary,  as  plainly  as 
her  agitation  would  permit,  "  it  is  your  child,  your 
own  Mary,  who  is  watching  over  you,  and  ready  to 
do  every  thing  to  comfort  and  console  you." 

"  O,  do  not  talk  of  comfort  and  consolation  to  a 
wretch  like  me.  Bring  me  a  priest,  that  I  may  try  to 
wipe  off  some  of  the  black  guilt  that  weighs  upon  my 
soul.  But  I  deserve  all  that  is  in  store  for  me.  There 
is  no  hope  of  mercy  for  me.V  And  as  she  spoke,  the 
wretched  woman  groaned  in  the  deepest  agony  of 
soul. 

"  Do  not  despair,  dearest  mother,"  cried  Mary,  in  a 
tender  and  encouraging  voice  ;  "  we  all  know  the  for- 
giving mercy  of  the  Judge  on  whom  we  have  to 
depend.  Prostrate  yourself  before  him  in  prayer,  dear 
mother,  and  I  will  bring  a  clergyman  to  help  you  to 
make  your  peace  with  your  Maker." 

So  saying,  Mary  hastened  out  of  the  room,  while 
the  groans  and  lamentations  of  the  dying  culprit  rung 
in  her  ear,  even  when  she  had  .reached  the  room 
below.  But  what  was  her  delight  when,  on  opening 

the  front  door,  she  found  the  excellent  Mr.  X 

standing  on  the  step,  just  on  the  point  of  knocking  for 
entrance.  The  circumstances  of  the  case  were  soon 
explained,  and  but  a  very  few  minutes  elapsed  before 
Mary  had  the  unspeakable  satisfaction  of  knowing  he 
was  shut  up  with  her  mother  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
ceiving her  confession.  When  his  religious  duties 
were  all  performed,  Mr.  X came  down  stairs,  and 


148  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

looking  with  tenderness  and  compassion  at  the  weep- 
ing Mary, 

"  Keep  up  your  spirits,  my  dear  child,"  said  he ; 
"  the  world  has  hitherto  been  very  unkind  to  you  ;  but 
though  you  have  been  placed  in  a  severe,  it  has  not 
been  an  unimproving  school,  and  I  trust  you  will  reap 
the  blessed  fruits  of  the  piety  and  virtue  that  you  have 
practised  in  so  exemplary  a  manner.  The  ways  of 
Providence  are  indeed  inscrutable  ;  but  believe  me,  my 
child,  the  longer  you  live  the  more  you  will  be  con- 
vinced that  they  all  tend  to  the  punishment  of  vice, 
and  the  reward  and  encouragement  of  religion  and 
goodness." 

Soothed  and  comforted  by  this  kindness,  Mary 
returned  to  watch  and  weep  by  the  bedside  of  her 
dying  parent,  who  had  been  so  much  exhausted  by  the 

efforts  she  had  made  while  Mr.  X was  with  her, 

and  by  the  agony  of  soul  that  she  had  endured,  that 
she  had  relapsed  into  the  same  state  of  stupor  from 
which  she  had  so  recently  recovered.  Little  change 
took  place  in  her  situation  the  whole  of  that  day  and 
the  ensuing  night ;  during  the  whole  of  which  time, 
Mary  never  for  a  moment  left-  her  bedside,  but 
watched  her  with  the  tenderest  care,  remembering 
only  that  it  was  a  parent  who  lay  stretched  in  sickness 
before  her,  and  not  that  in  this  parent  she  ever  found 
a  cruel  and  vindictive  foe.  We  will  not  pretend  to 
say  that  it  never  occurred  to  her  mind  that  her 
mother's  lips  were  about  to  be  sealed  in  death,  without 
their  having  released  her  from  the  promise  that  had 
been  extorted  from  her,  to  give  up  one  who  was  so 
deservedly  dear  to  her  heart ;  but  the  thought,  however 
frequently  it  returned,  was  as  quickly  banished  from 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  149 

her  mind,  and  every  feeling  of  selfishness  was  absorbed 
in  her  overwhelming  anxiety  to  see  her  mother  so 
far  restored,  as  to  allow  her  a  little  further  chance  of 
making  her  peace  with  her  offended  God.  Again  and 
again  did  she  kneel  down  by  the  side  of  her  insensible 
parent,  and  pour  forth,  with  all  the  pious  fervour  of  her 
ardent  soul,  her  prayers  for  forgiveness  and  mercy 
for  the  dying  penitent,  that  lay  wholly  incapable  of 
offering  up  a  supplication  for  herself.  At  length  the 
various  applications  used  for  her  recovery  seemed  to 
have  some  effect,  and  the  invalid  began  to  discover 
signs  of  consciousness.  These  favourable  symptoms, 
however,  were  accompanied  by  so  agonizing  a  state 
of  mind  at  the  conviction  that  she  was  on  the  very  point 
of  death,  though  so  ill  prepared  to  meet  her  great  Judge, 
that  Mary's  pitying  heart  could  scarcely  withhold  from 
regretting  the  consciousness  for  which  she  had,  but 

a  few  hours  before,  so  earnestly  prayed.     Mr.  X 

was  unremitting  in  his  attentions,  whenever  the  state 
of  the  sufferer  would  permit  his  services  to  be  of 
any  avail ;  and  to  Mary  his  kindness  never  failed 
to  be  a  support  and  consolation.  One  circum- 
stance, in  spite  of  the  agitation  and  anxiety  of  Mary's 
mind,  had  excited  her  attention,  and  gained  a  con- 
siderable share  of  her  approbation  and  gratitude ; 
which  was,  that  from  the  time  of  her  mother's  having 
been  so  violently  seized,  Smith  had  absented  himself 
from  the  house,  saying,  that  he  was  unwilling  to  add 
any  thjng  to  the  trouble  of  the  family  at  such  a  time ; 
and  had  even  locked  his  room-door  before  he  went, 
to  show  how  much  he  was  determined  that  there 
should  be  no  increase  of  labour  on  his  account. 
N2 


150  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  the  amiable  girl,  who  was 
always  anxious  to  think  the  best  of  every  one,  "  I  have 
done  him  injustice,  and  his  heart  is  better  than  I 
imagined  it  to  be  ;"  but  at  the  same  moment  the  recol- 
lection of  his  cold-hearted  cruelty,  at  the  time  of  Mr. 
Linley's  death,  recurred  to  her  recollection,  and  brought 
a  shudder  of  disgust  over  her  whole  frame. 

On  the  third  day  after  her  mother's  alarming  attack, 
as  Mary  sat  watching  her  symptoms,  almost  doubtful 
whether  the  functions  of  life  had  not  entirely  given 
way,  the  invalid  opened  her  almost  beamless  eyes,  and 
fixing  them  upon  the  face  of  her  tender  nurse,  she 
said,  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible, 

"  Mary,  can  you  ever  forgive  me  all  the  injuries  I 
have  done  you  ?" 

"  Do  not  ask  me  such  a  question,  dear  mother,"  said 
the  weeping  girl,  stooping  down,  as  she  spoke,  and 
pressing  her  lips  affectionately  on  the  cold  forehead  of 
the  invalid  ;  "  for,  believe  me,  I  have  not  a  feeling 
towards  you  but  that  of  sympathy  and  the  most  dutiful 
affection." 

"  You  owe  me  no  duty.  I  have  been  a  monster  to 
you  the  whole  of  your  life.  But,  O,  say  that  you  will 
not  stand  as  my  accuser  at  the  footstool  of  the  almighty 
Judge  ?" 

"  My  dear  mother,  do  not  talk  so,  I  entreat  you ; 
for,  be  assured,  my  most  ardent  prayers  will  ever  be 
poured  forth  to  obtain  forgiveness  and  mercy  for  your 
every  transgression.  Only  let  me  beg  of  you,  dearest 

mother,  to  lay  your  own  heart ,"  but  here  Mary 

paused  ;  for  the  sufferer  had  closed  her  eyes,  and  lay 
so  nearly  motionless,  that  Mary  watched  for  some  time 
with  great  earnestness,  before  she  could  actually 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  151 

ascertain  that  the  breath  had  not  already  left  the 
body. 

After  lying  a  considerable  time  in  this  state,  the  un- 
happy woman  again  opened  her  eyes.  "  I  once  made 
you  promise,"  continued  she,  in  the  same  faint  voice, 
"  that  you  would  never  have  any  farther  intercourse 
with  a  Linley.  It  was  barbarous  in  me  to  require  such 
a  promise  ;  but  I  know  you  have  kept  it  faithfully.  I 
release  you  from  it." 

Mary  almost  insensibly  sunk  upon  her  knees,  and 
sobbed  out  her  gratitude ;  but  her  mother  again  spoke, 
and  she  listened  with  breathless  attention. 

"  Open  the  top  drawer  of  that  bureau,  and  you  will 
see  a  letter,  not  the  one  I  once  tantalized  you  with  the 
sight  of,  for  that  I  buint  at  the  time  ;  but  one  that  came 
before  George  left  the  city,  or  rather  one  of  the  many 
that  he  sent,  all  of  which  I  destroyed.  Indeed,  this 
was  only  kept  for  the  sake  of  having  one  to  torment 
you  with,  by  showing  you  the  handwriting.  Many 
others  have  come,  but  they  were  always  burnt  as  soon 
as  read.  I  read  them,  not  so  much  to  know  what  they 
contained,  as  for  the  sake  of  making  myself  sure  that 
you  had  never  written  to  him  ;  but  though  I  found  you 
faithful,  it  made  no  impression  on  my  heart.  But  read 
it,"  continued  she,  as  Mary  held  out  the  letter  to  her ; 
"  read  it  now,  at  least ;  you  ought  to  have  done  so  long 
ago." 

Mary  unfolded  the  letter,  and  read  the  following : — 

"Baltimore,  August  24th,  1831 
"Mr  DBAR  MART, — 

"  We  have  always  been  united  by  the  tenderest  sym 
pathy,  and  now  a  similarity  of  misfortune  seems  (if 


A  '      ..    •       "  .'. 

152  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

that  is  possible)  to  bind  us  more  closely  than  ever  to 
each  other.  A  similarity  of  misfortune,  did  I  say  ? 
Yes  !  close,  indeed,  is  the  resemblance.  We  both  had 
fathers  whom  we  loved  and  honoured ;  they  left  us 
together  ;  and  at  the  same  place,  on  the  same  day,  they 
died  of  the  same  disease.  But  oh !  Mary,  when  I 
recollect,  that  I  am  the  cause  of  your  having  lost  your 
beloved  parent,  I  scarcely  know  how  to  bear  the  idea. 
If  I  had  not  urged  my  father  to  take  him  as  his  assist- 
ant, you  might  still  have  been  under  his  kind  protec- 
tion. But  who  could  calculate  upon  the  result?  I 
hoped,  by  what  I  did,  to  increase  your  happiness,  by 
raising  your  father's  standing  in  life;  but  though  it  has 
turned  out  so  contrary  to  my  hopes  and  wishes,  I  know 
I  shall  never  be  thought  of  by  you  as  the  cause  of  your 
misfortune.  No,  Mary,  you  have  known  me  too  long, 
and  are  too  well  acquainted  with  my  tender  affection 
for  you,  to  think  of  me  in  any  other  light  than  as  the 
kindest,  the  most  devoted  of  your  friends.  When  may 
I  come  to'see  you  ?  When  will  you  let  me  pour  rny 
regrets,  my  sympathy,  my  own  sorrows,  into  your 
ear  ?  Remember,  dearest  Mary,  that  both  my  parents, 
and  your  own  dear  father,  all  knew  and  approved  of 
our  affection  for  each  other.  You  know  how  often 
my  mother  rejoiced  in  the  happy  influence  that  you  had 
over  my  temper  and  manners ;  and  surely  it  would  be 
cruel  to  deprive  me  of  such  an  example,  now  that  I  am 
left  without  another  guide.  Our  dear  little  Louisa, 
too,  how  great  are  her  claims  upon  you  ?  But  why  do 
I  speak  to  you  in  this  manner  ?  If  you  have  it  in  your 
power  to  follow  your  own  inclinations,  I  know  that 
not  only  duty,  but  affection,  will  lead  you  to  every 
thing  that  is  kind ;  but  if,  for  the  present,  you  are 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  153 

restrained  by  other  duties  from  acting  as  your  feelings 
would  dictate,  I  am  only, "by  such  solicitations,  adding 
to  sorrows  that  I  would  do  any  thing  in  the  world  to 
relieve.  Believe  me,  then,  dear,  dear  Mary,  though  I 
may  be  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  either  seeing  or 
hearing  from  you  ;  nay,  though  our  poor  little  Louisa 
herself  may  no  longer  receive  marks  of  your  kindness, 
my  confidence  in  you  will  still  be  the  same.  My 
prayers  for  you  shall  rise  every  morning  and  night, 
and  I  will  endeavour  to  comfort  myself  with  the  belief, 
that  one  so  lovely,  so  pure,  so  holy,  cannot  fail  to  be 
the  especial  care  of  heaven.  Ever,  my  dear  Mary, 
your  affectionate  and  sympathizing,  though  sorrowing 
friend,  "  GEORGE  LINLEY." 

It- need  scarcely  be  said,  that  Mary  read  this  letter 
over  and  over  again,  before  she  raised  her  eyes  from 
the  paper.  For  the  moment,  every  other  feeling  was 
absorbed  in  the  affection  and  gratitude  which  it  called 
forth ;  and  when  she  recollected,  that  she  was  now 
absolved  from  the  painful  restraint  which  had  so  long 
been  imposed  upon  her,  and  that  she  was  at  liberty  to 
act  with  the  kindness  her  heart  dictated,  her  pure 
breast  swelled  with  thankfulness  for  the  comfort  that 
was  thus  awarded  her  in  this  hour  of  affliction.  "  And 
shall  I  be  again  allowed  to  receive  his  affectionate 
attentions  ?"  thought  she.  "  May  I  receive  his  letters, 
and  even  answer  them  ;  and  thus  overcome  the  distance 
that  divides  us  ?  And  the  dear  Louisa,  may  I  write  to 
her  too  ?  May  I  talk  to  her  of  her  angel  mother  ?  of 
her  noble  and  generous  father  ?  and  thus  keep  up  a 
love  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  excellent  in  her  infant 


^,  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

mi  ad  ?.  How  delightful  is  it  to  think  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  fulfil  the  expectations  of  my  kind  patroness, 
and  perform  the  duties  to  those  she  has  left  behind, 
which  are  due  as  a  return  for  her  generous  kindness  to 
myself.  O,  George  !  how  kindly  have  you  confided 
in  my  gratitude  and  affection  ;  and  how  happy  I  am  to 
think  that  it  will  yet  be  in  my  power  to  prove  that  I 
deserved  all  your  confidence.  You  have,  indeed,  ever 
been  most  kind  to  me ;  and  though  the  immediate 
cause  of  my  greatest  misfortune,  I  can  never  think  of 
the  share  you  had  in  it  but  with  feelings  of  the  liveliest 
gratitude." 

In  this  manner  did  Mary,  for  some  time,  give  vent 
to  her  long-suppressed  emotions,  losing,  for  the  time, 
even  the  recollection  of  her  mother's  dying  state,  in 
the  delightful  thought  that  she  was  again  at  liberty  to 
enjoy  a  reciprocation  of  kindness  with  one  who  had 
been  so  long  and  so  deservedly  dear  to  her.  At  length, 
starting  up  from  the  chair  by  her  mother's  bedside,  on 
which  she  had  sunk,  to  read  her  letter,  she  bent  over 
the  bed,  intending  to  thank  her  mother  for  the  plea- 
sure she  had  given  her,  when,  to  her  surprise  and  gra- 
tification, she  found  she  had  sunk  into  a  calm  and 
natural  sleep.  Delighted  at  the  happy  change,  the 
affectionate  girl  re-seated  herself,  afraid  almost  to 
breathe,  lest  she  should  wake  her  ;  and  fixing  her  eyes 
on  the  dear  and  well-known  characters  of  the  letter 
that  was  still  in  her  hand,  she  sat  indulging  every 
pleasing  presage  from  the'  effect  of  this  kind  effort  of 
nature  to  restore  the  unhappy  sufferer,  as  well  as  from 
the  salutary  'tendency  which  this  near  approach  of 
death  was  likely  to  have  on  her  future  character.  To 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  155 

ihe  consequences  of  such  a  change  in  her  mother's 
conduct,  on  her  own  immediate  situation,  Mary  was 
far  from  being  insensible  ;  yet  even  these  were  only 
secondary  considerations  in  her  mind,  to  the  moment- 
ous one  of  the  repentance  and  reformation  of  her  pa 
rent ;  and  for  this  she  prayed  with  all  the  fervency  of 
soul  that  the  spirits  of  the  good  may  be  supposed  to 
feel,  when  pleading  at  the  throne  of  grace  for  the  weak 
and  erring  natures  that  they  have  left  behind 


156  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

So  deep  and  so  profound  was  the  sleep  in  which  the 
invalid  was  wrapt,  that  Mary  had  retained  her  motion- 
less position  several  hours  before  her  mother  agair 
opened  her  eyes.  When  she  did  so,  however,  she  show 
ed  at  once  that  this  natural  medieine  had  produced  the 
happiest  effect ;  and  the  physician  on  his  next  visit  did 
not  hesitate  to  give  very  flattering  hopes  of  her  ultimate 
recovery.  These  hopes,  together  with  the  kind  and 

soothing  attentions  of  Mr.  X as  long  as  he  remained 

in  the  city,  tended  greatly  to  promote  the  recovery  they 
anticipated,  by  composing  the  mind  of  the  sufferer  ;  so 
that  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  Mary  had  the  satis- 
faction of  hearing  her  mother  pronounced  out  of  dan- 
ger. Her  pleasure,  however,  at  this  unexpected  resto- 
ration was  not  long  of  experiencing  an  alloy  ;  for  though 
almost  determined  to  blind  herself  to  the  fact,  the  poor 
girl  could  not  help  perceiving,  that  as  her  mother's 
strength  returned  she  gradually  relapsed  into  her  for- 
mer cold  and  repulsive  manner  towards  herself,-  and 
that  she  gave  utterance  to  doubts  and  suspicions  of  her 
kindness,  that  the  poor  girl  had  hoped  her  unwearied 
tenderness  and  attention  during  her  mother's  illness 
would  alone  have  been  sufficient  to  silence.  Another 
source  of  extreme  uneasiness  was  that  Smith's  return  to 
the  house  was  spoken  of  as  a  thing  of  course,  as  soon 
as  the  invalid's  health  was  sufficiently  restored  to  enable 
her  to  resume  her  usual  attentions  to  his  comfort.  It 


TIJE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  157 

is  true  that  in  his  occasional  calls  to  inquire  after  her 
mother's  health,  as  well  as  in  his  visits  to  her,  as  soon 
as  she  was  well  enough  to  see  him,  Mary  had  found 
his  behaviour  to  herself  much  less  offensive  than  it  had 
formerly  been  ;  yet  a  something,  she  scarcely  knew 
what,  made  him  inexpressively  repulsive  to  her,  and 
she  could  not  help  feeling  a  sensation  of  danger  when- 
ever she  was  near  him.  She  ventured  once  or  twice 
to  remonstrate  with  her  mother  about  again  receiving 
him  as  an  inmate,  but  all  her  objections  were  treated 
with  contempt,  and  she  was  told  she  was  a  fool,  and 
did  not  know  what  a  change  it  would  make  with  them 
if  they  were  to  quarrel  with  him.  This  excited  a  sort 
of  undefined  suspicion  that  he  had  a  larger  share  of  the 
expenses  of  the  family  than  was  consistent  with  his 
character  as  a  mere  boarder,  and  so  painful  was  the 
idea,  that  she  at  once  made  up  her  mind,  as  soon  as  her 
mother's  health  would  permit  her,  to  leave  her  to  go 
out  to  service,  rather  than  remain  a  dependant  on  his 
bounty.  Besides  her  fear,  however,  of  failing  in  her 
duty  to  her  mother,  by  leaving  her  before  her  health 
was  sufficiently  confirmed,  Mary  had  another  motive 
for  deferring  the  execution  of  her  intention,  even  after 
Smith  had  again  taken  possession  of  his  room  under  her 

mother's  roof,  Mr.  X ,  on  taking  leave  of  her,  had 

given  her  strict  injunctions,  not  to  take  any  important 
step  whatever,  without  first  consulting  him,  and  as 
he  had  said  he  should  be  again  in  Baltimore  in  the 
course  of  a  very  few  weeks,  she  resolved  to  wait  his 
arrival  before  she  made  her  mother  acqnainted  with  her 
intention.  Another  subject  of  anxiety  weighed  upon 
poor  Mary's  mind.  No  letter  had  for  several  months 
beci  received  from  George  Linley  ;  and  though  the 
O 


158  THE  TWO  SCHOOLS. 

suspicion  of  his  unkindness  never  for  a  moment  enter- 
ed her  mind,  she  could  not  help  feeling  uneasy  at  the 
idea  of  not  hearing  either  of  him  or  Louisa.  Her 
mother  had  told  her  that  all  the  letters  that  had  come 
from  him,  except  that  which  had  been  given  to  her, 
had  been  destroyed  ;  and  had  also  assured  her,  with 
what  truth  Mary  could  not  pretend  to  judge,  that  she 
had  no  recollection  of  the  address  which  George  had 
given  for  the  direction  of  any  letter  that  she  might  be 
disposed  to  send.  It  was  true  she  did  not  feel  disposed 
to  write  to  him,  even  had  she  been  in  possession  of 
his  address,  except  in  answer  to  a  letter  just  received  ; 
but  she  felt  that  it  was  her  duty,  as  much  as  it  would 
certainly  be  a  pleasure,  to  write  to  Louisa.  This  how- 
ever was  out  of  her  power  at  present,  and  day  after 
day  was  passed  in  the  most  painful  suspense,  while 
she  waited  with  almost  equal  anxiety  for  a  letter  from 
George  and  for  the  return  of  Mr.  X to  the  city. 

Things  were  in  this  state,  when  one  Saturday  even- 
ing as  Mary  sat  at  the  open  window,  trying  to  catch 
the  evening  breeze,  and  thinking  of  her  father,  the  an- 
niversary of  whose  death  was  just  at  hand,  her  mother, 
who  was  now  pretty  nearly  restored  to  her  usual 
strength,  came  into  the  room,  and  said,: — '• 

"  Mary,  I  want  you  to" go  to  early  mass  to-morrow, 
for  I  suppose  it  is  vain  to  think  of  putting  you  oft 
going  to  mass  at  all." 

"  Quite  so,"  returned  Mary,  "  if  it  be  not  absolutely 
impossible  for  me  to  go.  But  why  do  you  wish 
me  to  go  to  early  mass,  mother  ?  you  have  often  said 
you  do  not  like  me  to  go  in  the  morning,  as  it  disturbs 
you." 

"  But  I  mean  to  be  astir  early  myself  to-morrow 


TOE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  159 

rooming,  for  1  have  promised  Mr.  Smith  that  you  and 
I  will  both  go  with  him  up  the  rail-rpad,  and  spe'nd  the 
day  at  Ellicot's  Mills." 

"  I  would  rather  not  go,"  said  Mary,  gently  ;  "  I 
shall  prefer  staying  at  home." 

"But  I  would  rather  you  did  go,"  returned  her 
mother,  angrily;  "I  shall  not  allow  you  to  stay  at 
home.  I  will  not  have  the  house  kept  open  for  you." 

"  The  house  does  not  need  to  be  kept  open,"  said 
Mary,  preserving  the  same  gentleness  of  tone,  "  for 
I  can  go  and  spend  the  day  at  the  Asylum.  The  Sis- 
ters have  upbraided  me  several  times  for  coming  so 
seldom  to  sea  them." 

"  You  shall  go  no  such  way,  I  tell  you  ;  I  insist 
upon  your  going  with  me.  What!  when  Mr.  Smith, 
who  is  so  closely  confined  all  the  year  to  his  office, 
happens  by 'chance  to  have  a  holiday  to-morrow,  and 
is  so  kind  as  to  make  use  of  it  te  give  us  a  treat,  you 
must  be  so  ungrateful,  forsooth,  as  to  refuse  it !" 

"It  would  be  no  treat  to  me,  dear  mother ;  and 
therefore  you  must  excuse  me,  when  I  say,  I  really 
cannot  go." 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?"  said  the  mother,  holding  out  a 
letter  as  she  spoke.  .  \ 

Mary  in  an  instant  recognised  the  handwriting,  and 
sprang  forward  to  seize  it. 

"  No,"  cried  the  unfeeling  woman,  drawing  back 
her  hand ;  "  this  letter,  which  came  while  you  were 
at  market  this  morning,  shall  not  be  read  by  you  till 
you  return  to  your  duty,  and  consent  to  go  with  me 
to-morrow." 

Mary  sunk  upon  a  seat,  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  while  her  whole  frame  shook  with  agitation. 


100  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS,  ' 

"  What  do  you  say  ?"  asked  the  vindictive  woman 
after  a  pause  of  some  minutes.  "  Which  way  do  you 
intend  to  do  ?" 

"I  will  go  with  you,  alone,  to  Ellicot's  Mills," 
answered  Mary,  "but  I  cannot,  I  will  not  go  with 
Mr.  Smith." 

"  Then  this  letter  will  never  be  read  by  you,"  re- 
turned her  mother,  while  her  whole  face  seemed  to 
swell  with  rage;  "and  what  is  more,  remember  that 
if  you  keep  up  any  intercourse  with  the  writer,  or 
with  any  of  the  Linley  family,  you  will  draw  down  my 
curse  upon  your  head." 

"  Dear  mother,"  remonstrated  Mary,  raising  her 
fine  eyes,  from  which  the  tears  were  flowing  in 
streams ;  "  remember  the  agonizing  regrets  you  felt 
when  you  were  lying,  as  you  believed,  on  the  bed  of 
death.  O,  think,  dear  mother,  of  the  anguish  you 
then  felt,  and  consider,  I  entreat  you,  that  though  the 
hour  of  death  is  put  off  for  a  short  time*  it  is  sure  to 
come  at  last." 

"All  that  was  owing  to  the  weak  state  my  nerves 
were  then  in,  which  brought  on  all  the  foolish  super- 
stitions that  your  father  filled  my  mind  with  when  I 
was  young;  but  as  my  health  returned,  my  mind 
recovered  its  strength,  and  I  can  now  laugh  once  more 
at  all  the  tricks  of  priestcraft.  You,  however,  have 
faith  in  the  whole  scheme  and  therefore,  I  warn  you 
to  take  care  how  you  treat  your  parent  with  con- 
tempt." 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Smith  entered 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  what  has 
happened,  Mrs.  M'Donald,  to  put  you  into  such  an 
agitation  ?" 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  16 

An  explanation  was  immediately  given,  when  the 
young  man,  with  a  readiness  that  made  Mary  almost 
feel  obliged  to  him,  said, 

"  Well,  as  it  happens,  it  is  no  great  matter,  for  I 
find  that  I  could  not  have  gone  to-morrow ;  and  by  the 
time  I  can  go,  perhaps  Mary  may  discover  that  I 
deserve  better  treatment  from  her." 

"  May  I  not  have  my  letter  now,  mother  ?"  asked 
Mary,  timidly. 

"  As  soon  as  you  learn  to  be  obedient,  and  to  treat 
your  best  friends  as  they  deserve,"  answered  the 
other ;  and  Mary,  despairing  of  softening  her,  and 
unwilling  to  expose  her  emotions  to  Smith's  observa- 
tion, retired  to  her  chamber,  to  weep  over  her  hard 
fate,  and  to  pray  for  patience  and  resignation  under  it. 
But  though  religion  is  calculated  to  teach  submis- 
sion, it  was  never  intended  that  it  should  render  the 
heart  callous  or  insensible  to  the  claims  of  friendship 
and  affection ;  and  Mary,  whose  heart  was  moulded  in 
all  the  tenderness  so  peculiar  to  the  female  mind,  felt 
that  though  she  could  refrain  from  murmuring,  or  from 
giving  vent  to  expressions  of  impatience,  it  was  not  in 
her  power  to  restrain  her  tears,  which  flowed  with 
little  intermission  through  the  whole  of  the  night ; 
and  she  rose  in  the  morning,  languid  and  dejected,  and 
almost  trembling  at  the  idea  of  again  encountering  a 
scene  like  that  of  the  previous  evening.  To  her  sur- 
prise, however,  she  found  her  mother's  looks  and 
manner  much  more  gentle  and  kind  than  they  had 
been  for  some  time  back,  and  what  was  more  gratifying, 
Smith  had  already  left  the  house.  Fortunately,  too,  it 
was  Sunday,  and  of  course,  a  great  portion  of  her  time 
was  spent  in  the  peculiar  duties  of  the  day ;  and,  as 
*  ,  o  2 


162  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

her  mother,  on  her  part,  seemed  to  have  some  impor- 
tant business  of  her  own  to  attend  to  up-stairs,  she 
was  allowed  at  least  the  melancholy  consolation  of 
indulging  her  own  sad  feelings  undisturbed  by  the 
observation  of  others. 

It  requires  but  little  experience  in  life  to  know  that 
heavy  calamities  are  often  contended  against  with  less 
difficulty  than  minor  evils.  In  times  of  great  distress, 
the  mind  finds  itself  called  upon  to  make  a  strong 
effort,  and  the  very  necessity  of  keeping  up  the  exer- 
tion tends  to  allay  the  anguish  against  which  it  is 
struggling.  But  on  less  important  occasions,  it  is 
agitated,  without  being  roused,  and  a  sort  of  supine 
and  corroding  anxiety  preys  upon  it,  and  unfits  it  for 
every  exertion. 

And  thus  it  was  with  poor  Mary,  when  on  the 
Monday  she  endeavoured  to  engage  herself  with  her 
usual  occupations.  The  idea  of  the  letter  that  she  had 
so  long  watched  for,  with  such  anxiety,  being  actually 
in  her  mother's  possession,  while  she  had  only  been 
tantalized  with  a  sight  of  the  superscription,  dwelt 
upon  her  mind,  and  her  thoughts  were  continually 
occupied  with  fruitless  and  unavailing  conjectures 
respecting  its  probable  contents.  The  day  dragged 
on  in  a  state  of  listless  inaction,  very  uncommon  to  her 
usual  habits,  till  at  length,  as  the  afternoon  advanced, 
finding  herself  too  restless  and  uncomfortable  to  apply 
any  longer  to  her  work,  she  determined  upon  a  visit  to 
the  Orphan  Asylum,  to  seek,  in  the  conversation  of  the 
benevolent  Sisters,  that  antidote  to  the  jarring  cares 
of  the  world,  which  can  alone  be  found  in  their  ele- 
vated views  of  human  life,  and  exalted  principles  of 
religion.  On  arriving  at  the  Asylum,  she  was  told 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  163 

that  the  Sister,  whose  conversation  she  ever  found 
most  grateful  to  her,  was  in  the  room  in  which  the 
orphan's  work  is  exhibited  for  sale,  where  she  was 
engaged  in  arranging  the  various  articles.  Thither 
Mary  hastened  to  join  her,  and  found,  in  partaking  of 
her  occupation,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  her  conversa- 
tion, a  relief  that  she  had  long  sought  for  in  vain. 

After  they  had  thus  been  engaged  for  some  time, 
the  Sister  left  the  room,  requesting  Mary,  as  she  did 
so,  to  go  on  with  her  employment  till  her  return. 
But  scarcely  had  she  left  the  room,  when  the  door  again 
opened.  Mary  looked  almost  involuntarily  to  see  who 
entered,  and  observing  a  tall,  fashionable  looking 
youth,  and  a  little  girl,  both  in  deep  mourning,  come 
forward  into  the  room,  she  turned  her  head  suddenly 
away,  and  began  to  busy  herself,  with  great  earnest- 
ness, amongst  the  various  articles  for  sale.  In  vain, 
however,  she  endeavoured  to  avoid  observation  ;  for 
the  young  man  rushing  forward,  in  an  ecstasy  of 
delight,  exclaimed,  "  Mary !  my  dear  Mary !  is  it 
indeed  you  ?"  while  the  little  Louisa,  for  her,  our 
readers  have  no  doubt  concluded  it  to  be,  stretched  out 
her  arms  that  she  might  clasp  them  round  her  neck. 
Mary  stooped  ddwn  and  kissed  the  child  over  and 
over  again,  while  George  continued, — "  How  fortu- 
nate this  meeting  is  !  We  have  not  been  in  Baltimore 
two  hours,  and  came  here  as  the  most  likely  place  to 
hear  of  you.  But,  dearest  Mary,"  he  continued, 
taking  her  hand,  and  looking  in  her  face  with  an 
expression  of  half  reproachful  tenderness,  "  you  have 
not  even  by  a  single  look  yet  said,  '  I  am  glad  to 
see  you.'  " 

"  You  cannot  suppose  me  so  insensible,  Mr.  George, 


164  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

as  not  to  be  glad  to  see^an  old  friend  after  so  long  an 
absence,"  returned  Mary,  withdrawing  her  trembling 
hand  from  his,  as  she  spoke  ;  and  striving  in  vain  to 
speak  in  a  composed  tone. 

"  Mr.  George  !  Is  that  the  way  you  now  accost 
me  ?"  asked  the  youth,  in  a,  voice  of  surprise  and  mor- 
tification. "  Is  that  the  way  you  receive  me,  Mary  ?" 

"  You  know,"  said  the  trembling  girl,  whose  whole 
frame  shook  so  violently  that  she  could  scarely  stand, 
"  we  are  now  no  longer  children ;  and  it  is  proper 
that  I  should  bear  in  mind  the  distinction  there  is 
between  "us." 

"  There  is  no  distinction,"  cried  George,  with 
energy;  "you  are  my  equal  in  every  essential  point, 
and  as  such  I  shall  ever  consider  you.  0,  no  !  I  am 
wrong,  very  wrong !  My  equal  did  I  say  ?  No,  dear- 
est Mary,  you  are  my  superior,  far,  far  my  superior. 
Do  not,  therefore,  cast  me  from  you  ?  Call  me  George, 
as  you  used  to  do ;  and  treat  me  as  the  same  affection- 
ate friend  and  companion  that  I  have  ever  been." 

"  O,  no !"  cried  Mary,  striving  in  vain  to  suppress 
her  emotion,  and  bursting  into  a  violent  flood  of  tears 
the  moment  she  attempted  to  speak;  "  that  can  never 
be.  We  can  never  be  to  each  other  what  we  once 
were." 

"  And  why  not?"  asked  George,  eagerly.  "  Who 
shall  prevent  it  ?" 

"  O,  do  not  ask,"  sobbed  Mary ;  "  do  not  tempt  me 
to  talk  to  you  ;  for  I  am  afraid,  even  now,  I  am  com- 
mitting a  sin.  I  must  go,"  she  continued,  endeavour- 
ing to  withdraw  her  hand,  which  he  had  again  taken, 
and  held  as  if  determined  to  keep  her  till  she  had 
answered  his  question.  "  Let  me  go,  Mr.  George, 


THK   TWO   SCHOOLS.  165 

for  you  know  not  what  misery  you  may  bring  upon 
me  by  detaining  me  !" 

"  I  will  not  use  any  force  to  detain  you,"  said  the 
generous  minded  youth,  letting  go  her  hand ;  "  but, 
Mary,  if  you  have  a  spark  of  tenderness  for  me  re- 
maining, do  not  treat  me  with  this  coldness  of  manner. 
Do  not  call  me  Mr.  George,  for  that  sounds  like  the 
knell  of  our  long-tried  affection.  Surely,  Mary, 
though  you  may  be  forbidden  to  show  me  kindness, 
you  do  not  wish  me  to  believe  it  is  erased  from  your 
bosom  !" 

"  I  wish  you  to  judge  of  my  friendship  by  your 
own,"  said  Mary  ;  and  as  she  spoke,  she  raised  her 
fine  eyes  to  his  face,  with  a  look  that  at  once  removed 
his  doubts  and  soothed  his  agitations. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  replied  he,  his  own  face  lighting 
up  with  animation  as  his  eyes  me't  hers ;  "  and  I  will 
distress  you  no  longer  with  solicitations,  but  will 
endeavour,  to  wait  as  patiently  as  possible  for  the 
time  when  you  will  be  able  to  act  as  your  feelings 
dictate.  I  have  never,  during  all  the  long  twelve 
months  that  we  have  been  parted,  for  a  moment  enter- 
tained a  doubt  of  your  kindness,  though  all  the  many 
lettefs  that  I  have  written  to  you  still  remain  unan- 
swered ;  nor  should  I  have  had  the  momentary  doubt 
I  have  just  experienced,  but  for  that  cold  and  freezing 
word,  Mr.  Let  me  not  hear  that  again,  Mary,  and  I 
will  endeavour  to  be  content." 

Mary,  without  making  any  further  reply,  was  going 
towards  the  door,  with  the  intention  of  leaving  the 
house,  when  Louisa  ran  to  her,  and  taking  hold  of  her 
frock,  detained  her. 

"Will  you  not  stay  a  minute,  Mary?"  said  she, 


166  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  and  let  George  tell  you  how  good  a  girl  I  have  been  ; 
and  how  I -have  tried  to  do  every  thing  that  you  used 
to  tell  meto  do.  Please  wait,"  Continued  the  child,  in 
a  pleading  tone,  "  and  ask  George  if  I  have  not  been 
good  ?" 

Mary  stooped  and  kissed  the  child,  and  pressed  her 
to  her  breast  in  the  tenderest  manner;  but. afraid,  that 
in  doing  even  this,  she^was  incurring  the  sin  of  dis- 
obedience, she  immediately  hastened  out  of  the  house, 
without  even  waiting  to  take  leave  of  the  Sisters,  and 
pursued  her  way  home,  in  a  state  of  the  most  distress- 
ing agitation.  On  entering  the  house,  she  found  her 
mother,  with  Mr.  Smith  and  three  other  men,  all 
strangers  to  her,  one  of  whom  was  particularly  intro- 
duced to  her,  as  an  English  gentleman  who  had  been . 
but  a  short  time  in  this  country.  The  supper  things 
"were  on  the  table,  and  the  whole  party  appeared  to  be 
in  very  high  spirits;  but  Mary  experienced  a, some- 
thing, so  nearly  bordering  on  disgust,  at  her  mother's 
levity  of  manner,  that  she  was  afraid  to  analyze  the 
feeling ;  and  was  proceeding  to  her  own  room  when 
she  was  stopped  by  Smith,  who  coming  up  to  her,  and 
holding  out  a  letter,  said,  in  an  under  voice, 

"  Your  mother  and  I,  Mary,,  have  almost  had  a 
quarrel  to-day  about  this  letter.  I  found  she  refused 
to  give  it  to  you,  because  you  would  not  comply  with 
ner  wishes ;  but  I  have  prevailed  upon  her  to  give  it  up 
to  me,  for  I  have  no  notion  of  your  being  punished, 
just  because  you  don't  happen  to  like  me  quite  as  well 
as  I  would  wish  you  to  like  me.  Liking  and  disliking 
are  things  that  people  haven't  always  in  their  power : 
and,  therefore,  it  would  be  cruel  for  you  to  be  punished 
for  it.  I  have  likewise  prevailed  upon  her  to  let  you 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  167 

enjoy  the  kindness  of  the  friend  that  this  letter  comes 
from,  when  he  returns  to  the  city ;  and  so  I  hope, 
Mary,  we  will  see  you  more  cheerful  in  future  than 
you  have  lately  been ;  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you 
can  learn,  in  time,  to  look  upon  me  as  your  sincere 
friend  and  well-wisher.  But  if  you  cannot  do  that 
thing,  I  will  never  consent  to  have  yon  punished  for  it." 

"  I  am  sureV  said  Mary,  who  was  struck  with 
remorse  at  the  idea  of  having  been  so  unjust  in  the 
opinion  she  had  entertained  of  this  young  man,  "  I 
should  be  very  ungrateful  if  I  did  not  now  feel  very 
thankful  to  you  for  your  kindness." 

"  Well,  come  then,  Mary,"  said  her  mother  ;  "now 
that  Mr.  Smith  has  got  his  mind  eased,  just  put  your 
bonnet  off,  and  come  and  pour  out  tea  for  us; "our 
friends  here  are  in  a  hurry,  for  this  gentleman  is  just 
going  on  ship-board  to  sail  for  his  own  country  ;  and 
we  have  only  prevailed  upon  him  to  stay  to  supper, 
on  the  promise  of  letting  him  have  it  very  soon." 

Mary  took  off  her  bonnet  as  she  was  desired  ;  and 
putting  the  letter,  thatfSmith  had  given  her,  into  her 
bosom,  she  sat  down  to  the  tea  table,  with  a  degree 
of  cordiality  towards  that  young  man  which  she  had 
never  before  experienced.  The  conversation,  during 
supper,  was  chiefly  maintained  by  Smith  and  the 
Englishman,  and  ran,  principally,  upon  the  difference 
in  the  habits  of  the  people  of  the  two  countries,  espe- 
cially with  regard  to  eating. 

"  You  certainly  do  live  gloriously  in  this  country, 
with  your  chickens,  and  geese,  and  turkeys,  and  what 
not,"  said  the  Englishman ; .«'  yet  still  there  is  one 
thing  that  I  have  always  found  a  want  of,  and  that  is, 
of  our  good  English  hot  suppers." 


H8  THP    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"But  then,''  returned  Smith,  "I  understand  *ou 
do  not  sit  down  to  such  a  tea-table  as  we  always  have 
sot  before  us.  I  believe  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter,  and 
a  cup  of  tea,  is  all  that  you  would  get  at  this  time  of 
day ;  instead  of  the  display  that  you  have  here  of 
dried  beef,  and  sausages,  and  soused  fish,  and  cheese, 
and  all  the  good  things  that  you  now  see  before 
you." 

"  Very  true,"  returned  the  stranger ;  "  nor  is  it  very 
common  for  us  to  see  hot  beef-steaks,  and  barbecued 
chickens,  and  such  like  things  on  our  breakfast  table. 
Meat  once  a  day  is  as  much  as  the  most  of  us  look 
for,  except  tnem  that  can  afford  to  treat  themselves  with 
a  hot  snack  at  supper  time,  just  to 

'  Relish  a  cup  of  good  ale  ;' 

and  I  must  say  that  it  seems  to  me  that  it  makes  an 
evening  go  off  more  cheerful  when  a  few  friends  meet 
round  the  supper  table,  and  eat  their  bite  and  drink  a 
glass  or  two  of  good  ale,  than  when  they  sit  after  their 
cup  of  tea,  and  talk  till  conversation  begins  to  flag,  and 
then  drop  off  to  bed,  one  after  another,  without  even 
saying  good  night." 

"  That  is  all  as  people  are  used,"  rejoined  Smith  ; 
"  we  Americans  are  not  fond  of  circulating  the  glass ; 
but  think  it  better  for  each  man  to  take  the  little  he 
wants  in  his  own  private  apartment ;  which  is  not  so 
likely  to  lead  to  excess." 

"  That  is  a  subject  that  might  admit  of  a  question,' 
replied  the  other,  as  the  party,  having  finished  their 
meal,  rose  from  table,  and  sought  the  cooler  atmospheic 
of  the  open  windows.  "  But  be  that  as  it  may,  I  like 
your  country  vastly,  and  am  only  sorry  to  think  that  I 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  169 

am  leaving  it  without  ever  having  witnessed  one  of 
your  customs  that  I  have  often  heard  of ;  which  is 
your  way  of  marrying  in  your  own  houses." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  have  never  seen  a  marriage  in 
this  country?"  exclaimed  Smith. 

"  What !  never  seen  an  American  marriage  ?"  re 
iterated  the  lady  of  the  house. 

"  Never  !"  replied  the  stranger.  "  I  have  spent  all 
my  time  since  I  came  here  in  travelling  about,  and  have 
never  stayed  so  long  in  a  place  as  to  get  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  the  people  to  be  invited  on  such  an 
occasion." 

"  Well  now  I  think  it  is  a  real  pity  that  you  should 
go  away,  without  seeing  one  of  our  marriages,  for  in 
my  opinion  it  is  a  proper  fine  sight." 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  said  the  Englishman. 
"  Well,  after  all,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald,  "  I  do  not 
see  why  we  could  not  give  him  a  pretty  good  idea 
of  the  thing.  Suppose  Mary  was  to  go  out  of  the 
room,  and  you  Mr.  Smith  were  to  go  for  her,  and  bring 
her  in  leaning  on  your  arm,  and  one  of  you  gentlemen 
was  to  act  as  minister,  and  have  a  book  in  your  hand, 
and  we  were  all  to  rise  up  as  they  came  into  the  room, 
and  stand  and  listen  to  the  pretended  ceremony." 

"  To  be  sure  that  might  be  done  easily  enough  ;  and 

it  might  serve  to  give  some  faint  notion  of  the  thing." 

"  The  worst  of  it  would  be,"  continued  the  mistress 

of  the  house,  "  that  I  who,  as  the  mother,  should  of 

course  cry  all  the  time,  would  be   more  inclined  to 

laugh  at  the  idea  of  a  child  like  Mary  being  the  bride. 

But,  however,  I'll  try  to  look  as  like  crying  as  I  can. 

Go,  Mary  !  go  out  of  the  room  for  a  while,  and  then 

Mr.  Smith  will  come  for  you," 

P 


170  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

Mary,  who  was  so  amazed  at  the  proposal,  that  sho 
^otild  scarcely  believed  she  had  understood  her  mother 
when  she  made  it,  sat  still  without  speaking. 

"  Why  don't  you  go,  child  ?"  asked  she,  on  finding 
that  her  daughter  did  not  move. 

"  You  surely  are  not  in  earnest,  mother,"  said  the 
astonished  girl  ;  "  you  cannot  possibly  imagine  I 
would  do  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  Why  not,  I  wonder  ;  what  harm  would  there  be 
in  it.  It  is  not  a  Catholic  marriage  that  we  are  going 
to  imitate,  it  is  only  a  Protestant  one." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  make  a  mockery  of  any- 
body's religion,"  said  Mary,  calmly,  "  even  if  that 
were  my  only  objection  to  the  scheme." 

"  And  what  other  objection  can  you  possibly  have  ? 
you  know  it  is  only  meant  for  a  joke." 

"  One  would  imagine,"  said  Smith  in  a  pert  tone,  "  you 
were  afraid  I  wanted  to  make  you  my  wife  in  reality!" 

"  It  is  not  worth  my  while  to  inquire  what  are  your 
views  ;  I  only  know,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  be  an 
actor  in  such  a  scene." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  young  lady,"  said  the 
mother,  who  now  began  to  swell  with  rage,  "  you  are 
beginning  to  be  a  little  too  independent,  even  for  this 
country,  where  children  become  men  and  women 
almost  before  they  can  speak  plain." 

"  I  have  often  heard  of  the  independence  of  the 
American  children,"  rejoined  the  Englishman,  "  but  I 
have  never  seen  so  fine  a  specimen  before." 

"  It  is  past  all  bearing,"  exclaimed  the  furious  wo- 
man. "  But  I  would  have  you  to  know,  young  lady, 
that  you  either  do  as  I  bid  you,  or  leave  this  house 
directly." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  171 

"  To-morrow  morning  I  will  go,  mother,"  answered 
Mary,  steadily,  "  if  you  still  wish  me  to  do  so ;  but  to- 
night it  is  so  late  that  I  am  sure  you  would  not  wish 
me  to  leave  this  house  without  having  another  to 
go  to." 

"  Go  this  instant,"  cried  her  mother ;  "  I  will  not 
harbour  you  under  my  roof  another  night,  after  being 
treated  with  such  contempt  by  you." 

"  Dear  mother,  you  misunderstand  me  ;  indeed  you 
do,"  remonstrated  Mary,  in  a  gentle  but  firm  tone.  "  I 
will  obey  you  in  every  thing  which  my  conscience 
does  not  tell  me  is  sinful ;  but  I  dare  not  commit  a 
wicked  action,  even  for  my  mother's  sake." 

"  And  your  tender  conscience  is  to  be  the  judge  of 
my  actions  !"  .  . 

"  It  must,  at  least,  be  the  judge  of  my  own." 

"And  you  pretend  to  say,  that  I  wish  you  to  com- 
mit a  sin  ?" 

"  No,  mother ;  I  only  say,  that  what  you  wish  me  to 
do  would  be  sinful." 

"  Then,  I  beg  vou  will  leave  the  company  of  all 
such  sinful  people.  March  out  of  the  house,  this  in- 
stant, unless  you  are  disposed  to  act  with  the  obedience 
that  I  have  a  right  to  expect." 

Mary  took  up  her  bonnet,  which  lay  on  a  table  near 
ner,  and  put  it  on ;  but  as  she  did  so,  she  again  turned 
to  her  mother,  and  said,  in  a  gentle  tone  of  remon- 
strance, "It  is  so  late  that  I  really  am  afraid  to  go  out 
to-night.  Only  let  me  stay  till  to-morrow  morning, 
dear  mother,  and  I  will  obey  you  the  moment  you 
require  it." 

"  Go  out  of  my  house,  this  minute,"  cried  the  fu- 


172  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

rious  woman,  and  opening  the  door  as  she  spoke,  she 
gave  Mary,  who  stood  near  it,  a  push,  and  forcing  her 
down  the  steps,  immediately  closed  the  door  after 
her. 

"  Now  I  am,  indeed,  destitute,"  cried  the  weeping 
girl,  clasping  her  hands  together  as  she  spoke ;  but,  at 
the  same  moment,  the  idea  that  Smith  might,  perhaps, 
come  after  her;  nay,  even  that  the  whole  might  be  a 
mere  trick,  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  her  into  his 
power,  entering  her  mind,  she  rushed  forward,  with 
the  intention  of  hastening  to  cast  herself  upon  the  pro- 
tection of  the  good  archbishopr,  as  it  was  now  too  late 
to  gain  admittance  to  the  Sisters ;  but  before  she  had 
taken  half  a  dozen  steps,  two  men  rushed  forward,  and 
one  of  them  putting  his  head  rudely  under  her  bonnet, 
for  the  purpose  of  looking  in  her  face,  which  a  neigh- 
bouring lamp  enabled  him  to  see  very  distinctly,  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  exultation,  "  Yes  ;  this  is  the 
girl,  as  large  as  life.  That  I  am  ready  to  take  my  oath 
of,  before  any  magistrate  in  the  city." 

"  Well ;  if  you  are  quite  sure  of  your  mark,  here's 
for  her  then,"  said  his  companion ;  "  so  come,  my 
girl,  you  must  go  along  with  me ;"  and,  as  he  spoke, 
he  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

Mary,  shrinking  like  a  timid  hare  from  his  touch, 
almost  sunk  to  the  ground  with  fright,  and  uttering  a 
faint  shriek,  as  she  felt  her  progress  arrested  by  the 
man's  heavy  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  cried  out  in  a 
tone  of  the  most  touching  distress,  "  O,  will  nobody 
protect  me  ?  Have  I  not  one  friend  left?" 

"  You  shall  not  be  without  a  friend,  if  you  deserve 
one,"  said  the  man,  who  seemed  to  feel  the  influence 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  173 

qt  her  pathetic  appeal ;  "  but  if  you  are  what  you  are 
suspected  to  be,  you  cannot  expect  much  compassion 
to  be  shown  you." 

"  Take  her  before  a  magistrate,"  said  the  man  who 
had  first  spoken,  "  and  let  her  be  examined  at  once. 
I  am  ready  to  take  my  oath  this  moment  that  she  is 
the  girl  we  were  in  search  of." 

""Come  along,  then,"  returned  his  companion, 
whom  Mary  now  found  to  be  a  constable  ;  "  but  keep 
up  your  heart,  my  good  girl ;  you  are  too  young  in 
sin  yet  to  be  a  hardened  transgressor,  and  I'll  take  care 
that  you  have  nothing  but  good  usage." 

Unable  to  conceive  of  what  she  was  suspected,  and 
shocked  beyond  expression  at  being  in  so  disgraceful 
a  situation,  Mary  had  just  presence  of  mind  enough  to 
determine,  that  she  had  better  submit  without  resist- 
ance, to  be  led  where  her  cause  could  be  examined, 
relying  upon  the  omnipotence  of  truth  for  that  protec- 
tion, of  which  she  seemed,  at  present,  so  entirely 
deprived.  Painful,  however,  as  her  situation  then 
was,  she  could  not  help  feeling  thankful  for  even 
such  guardianship  as  she  was  then  under,  when 
she  saw  Smith  walk  past  her,  looking  very  earnestly 
at  both  her  and  her  companions ;  but  without  at- 
tempting to  speak.  On  arriving  at  the  magistrate's, 
they  were  told  he  was  not  in ;  but  the  constable, 
whose  heart  was  touched  with  the  pure  and  inno- 
cent looks  of  the  beautiful  being  before  him,  whom 
he  could  now,  by  the  aid  of  the  light  in  the  magis- 
trate's entry,  see  more  distinctly  than  he  had  yet  done, 
declared  he  could  not  have  the  heart  to  drag  a  sweet 
young  creature  like  her  about  the  town ;  and,  there- 
fore, begged  leave  for  her  to  stay  in  the  office  till  the 
p2 


174  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

return  of  the  magistrate,  of  whom  he  would  himself  go 
in  search.  Permission  being  granted,  Mary  was  ac- 
cordingly ushered  into  the  apartment,  the  blinds  being 
let  down,  and  a  lamp  lighted.  Her  accuser,  declaring 
that  he  also  would  go  to  seek  for  the  magistrate,  left  a 
boy  to  stand  sentinel  at  the  outside  of  the  house  during 
the  constable's  absence,  to  see  that  the  culprit  did  not 
make  her  escape  out  of  one  of  the  windows,  which  the 
humane  constable  insisted  should  be  left  open,  on  ac- 
count of  the  extreme  closeness  of  the  evening.  Know- 
ing that  she  was  a  prisoner,  under  suspicion  of  some 
crime  against  the  laws  of  the  country,  Mary,  as  she 
heard  the  lock  of  the  door  turned  upon  her,  could  not 
but  think  with  astonishment  of  the  composure  of  her 
own  mind.  A  sweet  and  soothing  consciousness  of 
purity  and  virtue  pervaded  her  mind ;  and  if  she  had 
ever  entertained  a  doubt  of  the  supreme  excellence  of 
religion,  it  would  at  that  moment  have  been  for  ever 
dissipated,  by  the  heartfelt  conviction  she  felt,  that  she 
was  under  the  protection  of  One  who  was  ever  a  father 
to  the  orphan,  and  a  shield  to  the  helpless.  As  she 
thus  sat  musing  on  the  extraordinary  situation  in  which 
she  found  herself  placed,  it  may  well  be  imagined  that 
her  thoughts  frequently  turned  to  the  grief  and  indig- 
nation that  George  Linley  would  feel,  were  he  aware 
of  it ;  and  remembering  his  letter,  which  she  had  not 
yet  had  an  opportunity  of  reading,  she  took  it  out  of 
her  bosom,  and  amused  the  lonely  and  anxious  hours 
of  waiting  by  reading  the  following  affectionate  effu- 
sion : — 

"Geneseo,  August  7th,  1832. 

"  I  could  not  pretend  to  say  how  many  letters  I  have 
written  to   you,   my  dearest  Mary,  since  I  last  saw 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  175 

you  ;  and  though  I  have  not  had  the  slightest  intima- 
tion of  your  having  received  one  of  them,  I  sit  down 
with  as  much  interest  to  write  again,  as  though  each 
letter  had  been  regularly  answered;  for,  in  the  first  place, 
it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  address  you,  even  in  imagina- 
tion ;  and,  in  the  second,  by  writing  frequently,  I 
increase  the  probability  of  at  least  one  of  my  letters 
falling  into  your  hands  ;  and  if  one  of  them  should  be 
received,  the  pleasure  that  I  know  you  would  feel 
would  make  ample  amends  for  a  much  more  painful 
exertion.  But  I  am  not  only  uncertain  whether  you 
may  ever  see  my  letters,  but  am  almost  sure  they  will 
be  read  by  others.  That  consideration,  however, 
gives  me  but  little  concern,  for  I  have  not  a  feeling  for 
you,  my  dear  Mary,  that  I  wish  to  conceal.  I  am 
willing  for  all  the  world  to  know  that  I  love  and  ad- 
mire you  more  than  any  other  creature  in  it ;  and 
though  your  admiration  for  me  can  bear  no  proportion 
to  that  which  I  feel  for  you,  I  know  that  your  affection 
for  me  is  sincere  and  heartfelt.  You  love  me,  because 
you  know  I  love  you  ;  you  love  me  for  my  father  and 
mother's  sake ;  and,  above  all,  you  love  me  for  that 
which  must  always  have  great  effect  upon  a  benevolent 
mind,  because  you  know  that- you  have  done  me  good  ; 
because  my  moral  standing  has  been  elevated  by  your 
bright  example,  and  because  I  have  learnt  to  love  reli- 
gion and  virtue  in  a  tenfold  degree,  by  seeing  them 
exemplified  in  you. 

"  I  told  you  in  my  last  letter  that  our  guardian  was 
come  over  from  England,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  us 
back  with  him,  and  that  the  only  uneasiness  I  had  at 
the  idea  of  going  arose  from  leaving  you  so  long. 
Not  that  I  have  any  fear  of  either  time  or  distance 


176  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

having  power  to  estrange  us  from  each  other,  for  1 
know  myself,  and  I  am  sure,  Mary,  I  know  you  also : 
but  I  tremble  lest  you  should  be  exposed  to  hardships 
during  my  absence,  from  which  it  might  perhaps  be  in 
my  power  to  protect  you,  were  I  on  the  spot ;  and  yet 
it  is  but  little  that  I,  at  my  age,  can  do.  Indeed,  I  do 
not  know  but  my  influence  may,  for  the  present,  be 
more  happily  directed  for  your  protection,  at  a  distance, 
than  if  I  were  nearer.  I  shall  write  to  the  archbishop, 

and  to  Mr.  X -,  of  Wilmington,  who  I  know  is 

much  interested  in  your  welfare,  to  commend  you  to 
their  care,  and  shall  tell  them  frankly,  that  the  moment 
I  am  my  own  master,  it  is  my  determination  to  return 
to  my  native  country,  and  testify  my  affection  and 
admiration  in  the  most  unequivocal  manner.  In  the 
mean  time,  dearest  Mary,  be  of  good  heart ;  I  do  not 
ask  you  to  be  patient,  for  that  you  always  are  ;  I  will 
not  ask  you  to  trust  in  the  goodness  of  God,  for  in  him 
I  know  is  all  your  trust ;  but  I  entreat  ydu  to  indulge 
the  same  unvarying  confidence  in  my  affection  that  I 
ever  feel  in  yours  ;  and  believe  me,  the  day  will  come, 
when  we  shall  meet  under  happier  auspices. 

"  I  expect  Mr.  Monkton,  our  guardian,  here  daily. 
He  is  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  daughter,  and  they 
wish  Louisa  and  me  to  go  with  them  to  Niagara, 
which,  of  course,  they  must  visit  before  their  return  to 
England.  I  understand  Miss  Monkton  is  exceedingly 
beautiful,  and  as  she  is  known  likewise  to  be  a  great 
heiress,  she  is  consequently  very  much  admired.  I  tell 
you  this,  Mary,  because  I  know  yon  are  a  stranger  to 
both  envy  and  jealousy.  As  far  as  her  beauty  goes, 
no  such  feeling  can  exist  with  you,  and  as  to  her  for- 
tune, your  mind  is  too  well  regulated,  not  to  estimate 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  177 

its  value  properly.  If  she  is  a  pleasant,  amiable  girl, 
I  shall  be  glad  of  her  as  a  companion,  as  I  understand 
she  is  much  about  your  age ;  but  if  not,  though  it  will 
signify  very  little  to  me  on  my  own  account,  I  shall 
regret  exceedingly  having  our  little  Louisa  exposed 
to  her  influence.  However,  it  was  the  will  of  my 
father,  and  must  be  submitted  to.  The  dear  little  girl 
desires  me  to  tell  you  that  she  tries  to  be  good,  as  you 
told  her  to  be,  and  that  she  loves  you  dearly.  Farewell, 
my  dear,  dear  Mary.  It  will  most  probably  be  long 
before  we  meet  again,  for  Mr.  Monkton  talks  of  pro- 
ceeding to  Canada,  and  sailing  from  Quebec ;  but  be 
assured,  that  years  and  years  of  absence  will  make  no 
change  in  the  affection  of 

"  GEORGE  LINLEY." 


178  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IT  is  so  long  since  we  lost  sight  of  our  first  acquaint 
ances,  the  Monktons,  that  it  is  now  time  for  us  to  turn 
back,  and  take  some  note  of  their  proceedings.  We 
left  them,  it  ma)  be  remembered,  just  embarking  in 
the  steamboat  for  Philadelphia.  -It  was  no  small 
gratification  to  them,  on  their  arrival  in  that  city,  to 
find  that  their  new  friend,  Mr.  Ellmore,  was  ready  on 
the  wharf,  waiting  for  them,  for  the  purpose  of  con- 
ducting them  to  one  of  the  best  and  most  fashionable 
boarding-houses.  To  Mrs.  Monkton,  who  had  been 
accustomed,  when  travelling-,  to  all  the  retired  comforts 
of  an  English  inn,  and  whose  delicate  spirits  shrunk 
from  the  idea  of  mixing  amongst  a  large  company  of 
strangers,  the  custom  in  this  country  of  resorting  to 
public  boarding-hous'es  was  not  at  all  agreeable.  To 
Augusta,  however,  to  whom  life  in  general  wag  new ; 
and  to  her  father,  who  was  fond  of  examining  mankind, 
wherever  found,  it  was  highly  amusing ;  especially,  as 
their  friend,  Mr.  Ellmore,  had  preceded  them  with  so 
flattering  an  account  of  their  wealth  and  importance, 
as  secured  them  the  best  attentions  of  all  around  them. 
Their  time  was  therefore  immediately  engaged  with 
various  little  parties,  formed  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing the  city  and  its  environs  to  the  strangers ;  and,  as 
Augusta  was  both  a  beauty  and  an  heiress,  her  excla- 
mations of  "  What !  is  that  one  of  your  finest  public 
buildings?  Dear!  what  little,  insignificant  looking 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  179 

places  your  churches  are !"  or,  "  Who  would  ever 
think  of  exhibiting  such  a  garden  as  this  is,  as  any 
thing  extraordinary?"  were  only  laughed  at,  as  amus- 
ing, even  by  those  who  were  not  insensible,  at  other 
times,  how  essential  an  ingredient  politeness  is  in 
composing  the  character  of  a  lady.  Amongst  the 
visiters  in  the  house  in  whicli  the  Monktons  had  sta- 
tioned themselves,  was  a  widow  lady  of  the  name  of 
Grants,  with  her  son,  a  young  man,  about  nineteen  or 
twenty,  who  had  spent  the  two  preceding  winters  in 
Philadelphia,  under  the  pretence  of  studying  medicine, 
but  who  seemed  to  imagine  that  thick  black  whiskers, 
long  mustachoes,  and  a  profusion  of  bright,  curly 
black  hair,  would  make  ample  amends  for  any  internal 
deficiencies  in  his  head-piece  ;  and  her  daughter,  a  girl 
about  Augusta's  age,  who  had  already  gone  through  a 
winter's  campaign  of  routs,  balls,  and  assemblies,  and 
was^now  loudly  calling  for  a  journey,  to  repair,  as  her 
mother  said,  her  prostrate  strength. 

This  family  immediately  attached  themselves  to  the 
Monktons  with  peculiar  assiduity.  Mrs.  Grants  visited 
Mrs.  Monkton  in  her  own  room,  and  made  herself 
agreeable  by  talking  of  England,  and  inquiring  about 
English  scenes  and  English  manners  ;  while  the  son 
and  daughter  interested  and  amused  Augusta  by  talk- 
ing to  her  of  that  gay  world  to  which  she  was  as 
yet  a  stranger ;  but  which,  they  artfully  hinted,  she 
was  so  well  calculated  to  adorn ;  so  that,  before  they 
had  been  two  weeks  under  the  same  roof,  she  had 
ranked  them  amongst  her  very  intimate  and  particular 
friends.  As  the  brother  and  sister  lounged  on  a  sofa 
one  morning,  with  Augusta  seated  between  them,  the 
young  man  said,  "  Your  father  mentioned,  at  breakfast 


180  TJIE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

this  •morning',  your  intention  of  visiting  Niagara  this 
summer.  You  will,  of  course,  take  all  the  most  im- 
portant public  places  in  your  way ;  and,  as  we  intend 
to  make  a  tour  of  them  likewise,  I  hope  we  may  be 
companions  most  of  the  summer." 

44  O,  how  charming  that  will  be  !"  cried  Miss  Grants, 
who  already  professed  herself  Augusta's  very  ardent 
friend.  "  How  delighted  I  shall  be  to  have  you  with 
me  all  the  time  !  I  declare,  it  is  the  only  thing  I  could 
enjoy  after  being  so  worn  out  with  the  winter's  dissi- 
pation." 

"  What !  have  you  entered  so  much  into  gayety  so 
early  ?"  asked  Augusta.  "  You  are  very  young  to  talk 
of  dissipation."" 

"  Why,  have  you  never  gone  into  company  yet  ? 
asked  the  young  lady,  in  reply  to  Augusta's  remark 

"  No,"  answered  Augusta.  "  A  ball  that  I  gave  just 
before  I  left  home,  on  my  birth-day,  is  the  only  ball, 
except  two  or  three  dancing-school  ones,  that  I  ever 
was  at  in  my  life."  > 

"  La,  how  strange  !"  cried  her  companion ;  "  you  are 
only  four  months  younger  than  I  am,  and  I  was  at 
ninety-three  balls  and  parties  during  the  winter ;  and 
should  have  been  at  several  more  if  I  had  not  been  too 
sick  sometimes  to  go.  What  a  shame  it  is,  that  they 
should  keep  young  girls  shut  up  so  long  in  the  nursery, 
as  they  do  in  England." 

"  It  is  very  good  management  of  the  mothers  to  do 
so,"  returned  her  brother,  "  since,  if  the  daughters 
made  their  appearance,  they  .themselves  would  have 
very  little  chance  of  ever  being  looked  at  again." 

"  O,  that  is  very  cunning  of  them,  certainly,"  said 
Miss  Grants;  "for  I  suppose  the  very  oldest  and 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  181 

ugliest  finds  it  hard  enough  to  bear  to  be  eclipsed  by 
a  '  younger  self.'  " 

"  But  does  not  the  same  difficulty  exist  with  mothers 
in  this  country  ?"  asked  Augusta ;  but  as  she  spoke, 
she  happened  to  raise  her  eyes  to  the  mirror,  which 
was  placed  opposite  to  the  sofa  on  which  they  sat,  and 
could  not  help  being  struck  with  the  pallid  and  hag- 
gard countenance  of  her  companion,  contrasted  with 
her  own  blooming  and  animated  one,  which  told  her 
at  once  how  short  the  reign  of  beauty  must  be  to 
daughters  thus  early  exposed  to  dissipation. 

"  Perhaps  it  might,  if  they  could  help  themselves," 
replied  Miss  Grants  ;  "  but  the  young  people  here  are 
not  kept  children  half  their  lives,  as  they  are  in  Eng- 
land. You  know  this  is  a  free  country,  and  the  chil- 
dren, of  course,  are  free  as  well  as  their  parents." 

"  But,"  returned  Augusta,  "  I  suppose  they  have  not 
always  money  at  their  own  command ;  and  how  could 
they  manage  to  follow  their  own  inclinations,  if  their 
parents  refused  to  supply  them  with  the  means  ?" 

"  Get  married,  and  leave  them,"  answered  her  com- 
panion, with  great  promptitude,  while  her  brother  set 
up  a  loud  laugh  at  his  sister's  ready  answer. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  as  she  must  be  an  ugly  wretch, 
indeed,  who  has  not  the  power  of  getting  married 
almost  as  soon  as  she  has  a  mind  to,  the  parents  are 
glad  to  keep  their  children  in  good  humour  at  home, 
to  prevent  their  running  away  as  soon  as  their  leading 
strings  are  taken  off." 

This  was  a  mode  of  asserting  her  independence  that 

Augusta  had  never  yet  thought  of.     She  had  pouted 

and  grumbled,  and  scolded  and  teased,  but  she  had 

never  thought  of  gaining  an  end,  or  revenging  herself 

Q 


182  THE  TWO  "SCHOOLS. 

for  an  occasional  disappointment,  by  an  elopement ; 
and  though  she  had  not  now  any  definite  notion  of 
making  use  of  the  expedient,  she,  nevertheless,  thought 
it  would  not  be  amiss  to  let  her  father  and  mother  know 
that  she  was  aware  of  her  own  independence.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  first  time  she  happened  to  be  alone  with 
them,  she  repeated  the  preceding  conversation  with 
great  animation,  watching,  at  the  same  time,  the  effect 
which  it  produced  on  her  father's  countenance.  His 
expression,  however,  remained  unchanged,  and  she  had 
persuaded  herself,  that  though  he  might  be  aware  of  it 
as  a  resource  for  an  American  daughter,  he  considered 
it  as  one  which  few  English  ones  would  think  of  avail- 
ing themselves  of;  when,  after  having  left  the  room 
for  a  short  time,  he  returned,  and  told  her  mother  and 
herself  that  he  had  made  arrangements  for  proceeding 
to  New  York  early  the  following  morning.  Au- 
gusta was  thunderstruck.  Such  an  alternative  had 
never  entered  her  mind,  and  she  eagerly  applied  to  her 
mother  to  oppose  her  father's  hasty  determination. 
Mrs.  Monkton,  however,  saw  her  husband's  motives 
too  plainly  to  offer  any  objection  to  his  determination, 
"especially,"  she  said,  "as  a  letter  had  arrived  that 
morning,  from  the  gentleman  in  Baltimore,  who  acted 
as  Mr.  Linley's  executor,  and  to  whom  Mr.  Monkton 
had  written  from  Wilmington,  informing  him,  that  his 
two  wards  had  been  taken  by  a  distant  relative  of 
theirs,  who  had  happened  to  be  in  Baltimore  at  the 
time  of  their  father's  death,  to  Geneseo,  where  they 
had  resided  with  him  ever  since,  and  where  they  now 
•waited  the  commands  of  their  guardian." 

Mortified  and  disappointed  beyond  measure,  at  thus 
being  obliged  to  leave  her  new  friends,  without  being 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  183 

able  even  to  bid  them  good-by,  for  the.  Grants  were 
gone  that  day  to  visit  a  friend  in  the  country,  and 
would  not  return  until  late  the  next  day,  Augusta  had 
no  other  resource  than  to  leave  a  written  adieu  for  Miss 
Grants,  expressing  her  great  regret  at  the  sudden  and 
unexpected  interruption  to  their  acquaintance,  and  her 
hope  that  circumstances  would  soon  throw  them  again 
in  each  other's  way.  She  told  her,  as  well  as  their 
undecided  plans  would  permit,  the  route  they  were 
likely  to  take,  hoping,  at  the  same  time,  that  theirs 
might  happen  to  be  in  a  similar  direction,  and  assuring 
her,  should  they  again  happen  to  fall  in  each  others' 
way,  that  she  would  meet  4ier,  notwithstanding  the 
shortness  of  their  acquaintance,  with  all  the  warmth 
of  an  old  friejid. 

This  note  Dawson  was  charged  to  give  into  the 
care  of  some  one  in  the  house,  who  was  sure  to  be 
punctual  in  delivering  it;  and  Augusta  comforted  her- 
self with  thinking,  that  though  her  father  was  hurry- 
ing her  away  from  Philadelphia  sooner  than  she  felt 
disposed  to  go,  he  could  not  prevent  these  most  agree- 
able friends  from  following,  as  she  knew  it  was  their 
intention  to  do ;  and  the  probabilities  were  greatly  in 
favour  of  their  again  meeting. 

Augusta  was  delighted  with  the  gayety  and  bustle  of 
New  York,  and  would  gladly  have  remained  there ; 
but  she  soon  found  that  it  was  in  vain  to  endeavour  to 
prevail  upon  her  father  to  lengthen  his  stay  above  two 
or  three  days,  as  he  declared  himself  anxious  to  hurry 
forward  to  J6in  his  young  wards.  A  visit  to  Saratoga, 
however,  en  passant,  was  a  matter  of  course  ;  but  the 
ceremony  and  dissipation  of  this  place,  were  so  little  in 
unison  with  Mrs,  Monkton's  depressed  spirits  and 


184  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

retired  habits,  that  Augusta  soon  found  their  sojourn 
there  would  be  but  of  short  duration.  Yet  as  this  was 
the  place  where  she  had  the  most  hope  of  again  meet- 
ing the  Grants,  she  determined  not  to  leave  it  soon  if 
she  could  possibly  avoid  it;  and  accordingly,  she 
offered  violent  opposition  to  every  suggestion  that  was 
made  in  favour  of  a  departure. 

"It  is  very  strange,  papa,"  said  she,  in  reply  to 
some  remark  of  the  kind  that  her  father  had  made, 
"  that  you  should  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  leave  this 
place,  when  you  have  said  all  along  that  you  had  great 
hopes  of  the  waters  being  serviceable  to  mamma's 
health  ;  and  now,  before  she  has  had  time  to  give  them 
a  fair  trial,  you  begin  to  talk  of  leaving  it." 

"  One  reason  for  my  wishing  to  go,  Augusta,"  said 
her  father,  "  is,  that  I  find  the  customs  of  this  place 
so  contrary  to  your  mother's  tastes  and  habits,  that  I 
fear  she  will  get  more  harm  from  being  obliged  to  act 
in  conformity  with  this  artificial  state  of  society,  which 
is  so  constantly  in  opposition  to  her  feelings,  than  she  is 
likely  to  get  good  from  any  qualities  that  the  waters 
may  possess." 

"  It  is  very  strange  that  mamma  cannot  find  her 
pleasure  in  seeing  her  daughter  enjoy  herself,  as  other 
mothers  do,"  said  Augusta,  poutingly. 

"  If  I  saw  the  habits  of  the  place  such  as  you  were 
likely  to  derive  advantage  from,  Augusta,"  said  her 
mother,  "  I  believe,  you  know  that  few  mothers  would 
be  more  disposed  to  sacrifice  their  own  feelings  than  I 
should  be.  But  when,  on  the  contrary,  I  see  you 
surrounded  with  nothing  but  frivolity  and  folly,  before 
you  are  old  enough  to  appreciate  such  qualities  as 
they  deserve,  I  own  I  see  little  to  induce  me  to  do 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  185 

violence  to  both  my  feelings  and  judgment  by  remain- 
ing here  "  .=»;.  j.  ««*^. 

"  It  is  not  at  all  extraordinary  that  you,  who  have 
shut  yourself  up  almost  with  the  seclusion  of  a  nun, 
and  indulged  in  low  spirits  till  you  had  almost  per- 
suaded yourself  it  was  sinful  to  smile,  should  feel  a 
little  out  of  your  element  amongst  the  gayety  of  this 
place.  But  yet,  considering  that  I  am  not  quite  so  old 
as  you,  or  quite  so  much  opposed  to  enjoyment,  I 
should  think  you  might  be  a  little  more  inclined  to  let 
me  have  a  portion  of  the  pleasure  natural  to  my  age." 

*?  Augusta,"  said  her  father,  "  this  is  a  very  extra- 
ordinary manner  for  any  daughter  to  talk,  but  espe- 
cially for  one  whose  happiness  has  been  her  mother's 
only  care.  Does  it  never  enter  your  head,  that  if  you 
have  a  right  to  expect  indulgence  and  tenderness  from 
your  mother,  that  affection  and  gratitude  is  equally  due 
from  you  in  return  ?" 

"  I  have  never  seen  any  very  great  cause  that  I 
have  for  gratitude,"  returned  Augusta,  pertly.  "  Mam- 
ma's mind  always  appears  much  more  taken  up  with 
regrets  for  that  which  she  has  not,  than  with  pleasure 
from  that  which  she  has." 

This  was  touching  a  string  that  never  failed  to 
vibrate  with  a  thrilling  pang;  and  Mrs.  Monkton, 
while  the  tears  filled  her  eyes  and  trickled  down  her 
cheek,  only  said, 

"  Augusta,  when  you  have  recovered  from  your  ill 
humour,  you  will  be  sorry  for  having  said  this." 

"  I  am  sorry  already,  dear  mamma,"  cried  the  im- 
petuous girl,  clasping  her,,arms  round  her  mother's 
neck,  as  she  spoke ;  "  I  know  it  was  both  unfeeling 


186  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

and  ungrateful  of  me  to  talk  so ;  but  I  cannot  help, 
sometimes,  feeling  both  vexed  and  mortified,  to  find 
that  my  efforts  to  make  you  more  cheerful  and  happy 
are  so  unsuccessful.  For,  indeed,  dear  mamma,  I  do 
wish  very  much  to  see  you  enjoy  yourself." 

"  And  like  all  spoiled  children,"  said  her  father, 
"  become  impatient  when  you  cannot  get  every  thing 
as  you  wish." 

"  We  ought,  however,  my  dear,"  returned  Mrs 
Monkton,  addressing  her  husband,  "  to  make  some 
allowance  for  Augusta,  for  it  is  certainly  very  trying 
to  her  to  have  me  so  continually  disposed  to  withdraw 
from  every  species  of  amusement,  as  I  am.  We  can- 
not expect  her  to  sympathize  with  me  on  all  occa- 
sions ;  or  recollect,  unless  when  it  is  forcibly  brought 
to  her  memory,  the  cankering  worm  that  is  continually 
gnawing  at  my  heart." 

"  A  child's  affection  ought  not  to  require  any  promp- 
ter," replied  the  husband." 

"  Nor  shall  mine  in  future,  papa,"  said  Augusta. 
"  Now  that  I  find  mamma  is  really  injured  by  the 
gayety  of  this  place,  I  will  not  ask  to  stay  any  longer  ; 
but  am  ready  to  set  off  whenever  you  think  fit." 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  are  so  well  prepared  to  fall 
in  with  my  arrangements,"  replied  Mr.  Monkton, 
coldly;  "for  I  intend  to  leave  this  place  to-morrow 
morning." 

This  was  a  reply  that  did  not  exactly  suit  Augusta's 
temper.  She  had  made  an  effort  to  conquer  that  spirit 
of  selfishness  which  had  become  almost  her  sole 
principle  of  action ;  and  imagining  her  merit  in  the 
exertion  to  be  deserving  of  praise,  she  felt  no  small 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  187 

degree  of  mortification  at  finding  it  thus  received  merely 
as  a  matter  of  course.  But  Augusta  did  not  know  all 
the  workings  of  her  father's  mind ;  nor  if  she  had,  do 
we  pretend  to  say.  that  she  would  have  philosophized 
upon  it,  or  have  acknowledged  the  justice  of  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  his  manner  towards  herself 
within  the  last  few  months.  Indeed,  we  will  not  our- 
selves pretend  to  say,  that  he  might  not  frequently 
have  taken  a  more  judicious  way  of  correcting  the  evil 
of  which  he  had  thus  late  become  aware ;  but  as  it 
was  always  painful  to  him  to  oppose  even  the  slightest 
of  her  wishes,  the  effort  that  it  required,  when  called 
upon  to  do  so,  on  any  important  occasion,  often  led 
him  to  make  that  opposition  in  a  less  conciliatory  man- 
ner than  accorded  with  the  consistency  of  character 
which  can  alone  obtain  respect  and  cheerful  obedience. 
She  had,  however,  declared  her  willingness  to  comply 
with  her  father's  arrangement,  and,  therefore,  she  with- 
held from  any  further  remark  on  the  occasion ;  but  she 
was  gloomy  and  fretful  during  the  rest  of  the  day,  and 
rose  in  the  morning  but  little  disposed  to  enliven  the 
journey  which  they  were  about  to  commence  with 
cheerfulness  and  good  humour.  But  if  this  was  the 
case  when  she  first  rose,  how  much  was  the  feeling 
increased,  when,  on  going  down  to  the  piazza,  to  wait 
the  summons  to  breakfast,  she  found,  to  her  great  sur- 
prise, young  Grants  there,  waiting,  as  he  said,  to 
catch  the  first  glimpse  of  her !  "  Juliana,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  is  just  gone  up-stairs  to  find  out  your  room  ; 
for  we  were  both  of  us  tired  of  waiting  for  your  coming 
down.  But  what  is  this  ?  You  seem  to  be  equipped 
for  travelling.  You  surely  are  not  going  to  make 
another  sudden  flight."  - 


188  THE   TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"  Indeed  we  are>  Papa  announced  his  sovereign 
pleasure  yesterday  afternoon,  and  we,  you  know,  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  obey." 

"Are  such  arbitrary  control  and  implicit  obedience 
common  things  in  England  ?"  asked  the  young  man. 

"  Pretty  much  so,  I  believe,"  replied  Augusta,  with 
an  expression  of  great  mortification  on  her  counte- 
nance. 

.  "  Then  I  wish  we  had  all  such  dear,  kind  parents, 
who  like  to  have  mere  automata  for  children,  here  for 
a  while." 

"  And  what  would  you  do  to  them  ?" 

"  Teach  them  to  know  how  far  their  power  extends," 
said  the  young  man,  in  an  under  voice,  for  at  that 
instant  he  saw  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Monkton  approaching 
them;  and  the  next  moment  they  were  joined  by  his 
mother  and  sister,  when  expressions  of  pleasure  at 
meeting,  and  of  regrets  at  having  so  soon  to  part  again, 
with  remarks  on  the  roads  and  weather,  filled  up  the 
time  till  summoned  to  breakfast,  when  the  Grants, 
on  account  of  their  recent  arrival,  had  to  go  down  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  table,  and  the  party  was  for  the  pre- 
sent separated.  The  moment  the  meal  was  over,  how- 
ever, Juliana  flew  to  Augusta,  and  drawing  her  arm 
within  her  own,  led  her  again  to  the  piazza,  where 
they  paraded  back  and  forward,  accompanied  by  young 
Grants,  till  the  carriage  drove  to  the  door,  and  Augusta 
was  summoned  to  it. 

"If  I  can  prevail  upon  mamma  to  leave  here  so  soon, 
we  shall  most  likely  join  you  at  Schenectady,"  said 
Miss  Grants,  as  she  embraced  Augusta  with  every 
expression  of  the  most  extravagant  fondness. 

"  And  at  all  events,  I  believe  I  shall  avail  myself  of 


THE   TWO    SCHOOLS.  189 

the  opportunity  of  visiting  the  great  wonder  of  the 
North  under  such  happy  auspices,  and  be  with  you 
before  you  have  advanced  far  on  your  journey,"  added 
her  brother. 

This  was  much  more  pleasing  information  to  Au- 
gusta than  to  either  her  father  or  mother ;  so  that 
though  she  was  now  restored  to  vivacity  and  good 
humour,  her  father  was  gloomy  and  her  mother 
thoughtful ;  and  the  ride  to  Schenectady  was  completed 
without  a  dozen  sentences  having  been  spoken  by  any 
of  the  party.  At  this  place,  Augusta  would  gladly 
have  prolonged  their  stay  till  the  arrival  of  her  friends  ; 
but  her  father  and  mother  both  seemed  determined  to 
prosecute  their  journey  to  Geneseo  without  delay, 
and  Augusta  found,  that  though  she  grumbled  and 
flounced,  and  certainly  made  herself  as  disagreeable  as 
she  could  desire,  it  was  all  of  no  avail ;  for  she  was 
drawn  along  as  fast  as  four  horses  could  drag  a  lightly 
laden  vehicle  ;  for  Mr.  Monkton,  who  had  the  satisfac- 
tion, at  every  stage,  of  grumbling  at  the  want  of  the 
comfortable  English  post-chaises,  preferred  hiring 
what  is  called  an  exclusive  extra,  solely  for  his  own 
use,  to  encountering  the  indiscriminate  mixture  of 
company  to  be  met  with  in  the  public  stages.  The 
first  agreeable  circumstance  with  which  they  met  oc- 
curred at  Utica,  where,  on  stopping  at  the  door  of  the 
principal  hotel,  the  first  person  they  saw  was  their 
friend,  Mr.  Ellmore.  As  he  was  a  favourite  with  all, 
the  rencontre  was  agreeable  to  the  whole  party,  but 
more  especially  so  to  Augusta,  who  flattered  herself 
that  the  pleasure  of  his  company  would  induce  her 
father  to  remain  some  time  at  Utica,  and  so  allow  the 
Grants  more  time  to  overtake  them.  '  '•  •'•' 


190  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

But  every  hope  in  which  she  indulged  seemed  to  be 
alike  destined  to  meet  with  disappointment,  for  they 
had  not  been  an  hour  atUtica,  before  she  was  informed 
by  her  mother,  that  Mr.  Ellmore  had  spoken  in  such 
terms  of  admiration  of  the  exquisite  and  romantic  beau- 
ty of  the  Trenton  Falls,  which  were  only  a  few  miles 
from  Utica,  that  they  had  been  induced  to  deviate  from 
their  direct  route  for  the  sake  of  visiting  them.  This 
was  a  severe  trial  to  Augusta's  patience,  for  she  imme- 
diately saw  the  probability,  while  they  were  at  these 
falls,  of  the  Grants  arriving  at  Utica,  and  not  finding 
them  there,  of  their  pursuing  their  journey  with  the 
idea  of  overtaking  them.  Again  she  scolded,  called 
her  father  an  arbitrary  tyrant,  and  declared  she  would 
not  be  made  a  slave  to  his  caprices  ;  but  again  she  had 
to  submit  and  go  whithersoever  he  directed.  To  do  so, 
however,  either  willingly  or  pleasantly ,  was  what  he  had 
no  power  to  enforce  upon  her,  and  the  right  of  being  out 
of  humour,  and  of  grumbling  and  making  herself  dis- 
agreeable, she  was  at  least  determined  to  maintain  ; 
even  though  she  saw  that  her  father  was  angry,  and 
her  mother  grieved  and  distressed,  at  her  wayward 
and  unaccommodating  behaviour.  On  arriving  at  the 
falls  they  found  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  so  far  be- 
yond the  expectation  which  even  Mr.  Ellmore's  ani- 
mated description  had  raised,  and  the  quiet  retirement 
of  the  place  so  peculiarly  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Monkton's 
worn-out  spirits,  that  it  was  immediately  determined 
they  should  remain  there  at  least  several  days  ;  and 
such  was  the  power  of  the  exquisite  scenery  by  which 
they  were  surrounded,  that  even  Augusta's  froward 
temper  was  softened  into  joy,  and  she  wandered  from 
fall  to  fall,  climbing  the  rocks  or  skirting  the  precipices 


THE  TWO  SCHOOLS.  101 

with  fearless  enthusiasm,  pronouncing  each  cascade  as 
she  viewed  it,  and  marked  the  peculiar  characteristica 
by  which  it  was  distinguished  from  the  others,  to  be 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  whole. 

To  Mrs.  Monkton,  whose  mind  was  tremblingly 
alive  to  every  thing  that  was  calculated  to  touch  the 
heart  or  elevate  the  feelings,  this  sublime  display  of 
the  beautiful  and  grand  in  nature  was  peculiarly  in- 
teresting, and  she  would  at  one  time  contemplate  the 
foaming  torrent  dashing  from  rock  to  rock  with  irre 
sistible  violence,  till  her  feelings  were  roused  to  a  de- 
gree of  admiration  and  astonishment,  almost  amounting 
to  agony  ;  and  at  another  turn  to  the  smooth  transpa- 
rent sheet,  as  it  glided  without  a  ripple  over  its  rocky 
ledge,  till  her  high  wrought  fancy  was  softened  into 
peace,  and  the  gently  trickling  tears  would  come  to 
the  relief  of  her.  overcharged  heart.  Mr.  Monkton, 
himself  a  great  admirer  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  found 
great  charms  in  this  romantic  spot,  from  various 
causes.  He  was'much  gratified  to  find,  that  his  wife 
had  found  a  place  so  peculiarly  fitted  to  her  taste, 
where  she  could  rest  herself,  and  recover  her  exhaust- 
ed spirits,  after  the  continual  change  of  scene,  and 
bustle  of  company,  to  which  she  had  been  so  long 
exposed  ;  but  perhaps  he  was  still  better  pleased  to 
think  that  by  this  deviation  from  the  common  track, 
they  were  likely  to  elude  the  pursuit  of  the  Grants, 
and  probably  escape  them  altogether.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  had  given  his  servants  strict  charges  to  avoid 
as  much  as  possible  making  his  name  and  route  known 
at  the  various  hotels  at  which  they  had  stopped,  and 
had  himself  practised  a  degree  of  reserve  on  the  same 
occasions,  very  unusual  with  him  ;  and  altogether  in 


192  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

opposition  to  his  natural  disposition  ;  by  this  means 
he  flattered  himself  that  they  had  passed  on  but  little 
noticed,  and  altogether  unknown,  and  that  the  Grants, 
should  they  follow  them,  which  he  had  little  doubt  of 
their  doing,  would  hear  nothing  of  them  to  prevent 
their  persevering  in  the  pursuit,  till  they  arrived  at  the 
end  of  the  journey,  and  therefore  if  they  met  at  all  it 
would  not  be  till  they  were  travelling  in  opposite 
directions. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  193 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WE  have  said  in  the  preceding  chapter  that  Mr 
Monkton  flattered  himself  that  by  avoiding  all  means 
of  exciting  attention,  he  and  his  family  might  pursue 
their  course  without  any  particular  notice  being  taken  ot 
them  ;  but  had  his  stay  in  the  country  been  only  a  very 
little  longer,  he  would  have  discovered,  that  we  have 
no  travelling  incognito  here  ;  but  that  much  more  ob- 
scure individuals  than  his  appearance,  and  mode  of 
travelling,  bespoke  him,  must  lay  their  accounts  for 
having  every  particular  respecting  them  made  fully 
known  to  each  individual  they  encounter  on  their 
route.  It  is  said  that  Franklin,  wKen  on  a  journey, 
made  a  point  at  every  stopping  place  to  which  he 
came,  to  announce  immediately  on  his  arrival,  his 
name,  occupation,  whence  he  had  come,  and  whither 
he  was  going,  for  the  sake  of  saving  all  further  trouble 
of  answering  the  many  questions  which  were  sure  to 
be  put  to  him.  In  the  present  day,  however,  things 
are  managed  with  less  trouble  still  to  "the  traveller, 
since  either  by  intuition,  or  by  some  other  invisible 
means,  all  this  important  information  is  acquired  with- 
out its  being  directly  apparent  from  whence  the 
knowledge  is  derived.  This  being  the  case,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  the  Grants  no  sooner  reached  Utica, 
than  they  were  made  acquainted  with  the  present  resi- 
dence of  those  of  whom  they  were  in  pursuit ;  and  as 
they  were  happily  as  little  impeded  by  delicacy  as  by 
R 


194  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS, 

want  of  information,"  they  lost  no  time  in  following 
them  thither.  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  this  is  too  bad  !"  cried  Mr. 
Monkton,  as  he  looked  out  of  the  window  on  hearing 
a  carriage  drive  to  the  door  of  the  hotel ;  "  these  peo- 
ple haunt  us  like  a  disease." 

"  O,  how  delightful !"  exclaimed  Augusta,  who  had 
followed  her  father  to  the  window ;  and,  at  the  same 
instant,  she  flew  down-stairs  to  welcome  the  new 
comers ;  and  for  the  next  hour  or  two,  she  had  neither 
eyes  nor  ears  for  any  thing,  but  her  dear  Juliana,  and 
her  charming  brother.  At  length,  their  interesting 
conference  was  interrupted  by  a  summons  for  Augusta 
to  hasten  to  her  mother's  room  ;  and,  though  half  dis- 
posed to  refuse,  she  at  last  determined  to  go,  just  to 
see  what  her  mamma  wanted,  but  promised  her  friends 
to  return  immediately,  and  accompany  them  down  to 
the  Falls.  On  entering  the  room,  Augusta  found  her 
father  pacing  the  floor  in  evident  agitation,  while  her 
mother  sat,  following  him  with  her  eyes,  in  each  turn 
he  made,  with  an  expression  of  anxious  and  painful 
solicitude. 

"  Come  in,  Augusta,"  said  Mr.  Monkton,  as  his 
daughter  made  her  appearance  at  the  door  of  the 
chamber.  "  Come  in,  and  shut  the  door,  for  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

Augusta  did  as  she  was  desired,  and,  believing  she 
already  knew  what  she  was  about  to  hear,  she  armed 
her  mind  with  all  due  resolution  for  the  approaching 
contest. 

"  The  carriage,"  said  Mr.  Monkton,  in  a  tone  of 
considerable  agitation,  "  that  conveyed  your  new  friends 
here,  brought  letters  to  me,  of  such  import  as  to 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  195 

oblige  me  immediately  to  retrace  the  route  we  have 
just  come,  and  to  hasten  with  as  little  loss  of  time  as 
possible  to  Philadelphia,  or  perhaps  to  Baltimore. 
You  must,  therefore,  assist  Dawson  to  prepare  for  our 
departure,  which  must  be  at  a  very  early  hour  to-mor- 
row morning." 

Augusta,  who  had  expected  to  receive  an  attack 
upon  her  sudden  and  extravagant  fondness  for  the 
Grants,  and  perhaps  even  to  be  forbidden  to  associate 
with  them,  had  prepared  herself,  as  she  conceived, 
•with  an  appropriate  reply ;  but  she  was  altogether 
thrown  off  her  guard  by  this  unexpected  arrangement, 
and  stood  for  a  few  moments  silent,  and  at  a  loss  what 
to  say,  while  her  countenance  bespoke  the  tempest 
that  was  gathering  within. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  for  you  to  trouble  yourself  with 
any  objections,  Augusta,"  said  her  father,  in  a  more 
composed  voice  than  he  had  before  spoken  in,  "  for 
nothing  you  can  say  will  make  any  change  in  my 
arrangements.  Indeed,  the  more  violent  your  objec- 
tions to  them  appear  to  be,  the  more  I  shall  rejoice  in 
the  necessity  that  has  obliged  me  to  adopt  them." 

"  It  is  very  extraordinary,"  cried  Augusta,  when 
she  at  length  recovered  presence  of  mind  sufficient  to 
speak,  "  that  after  pretending  to  be  in  such  haste  to 
join  your  wards,  and  so  repeatedly  urging  the  neces- 
sity of  proceeding  to  Niagara  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible,  as  the  advance  of  the  season  would  soon 
make  it  dangerous  to  travel  amongst  the  lakes,  you  all 
at  once,  nobody  knows  why,  find  it  necessary  to  go 
straight  back  again.  I  hope,  mamma,  you  will  not 
consent  to  go,"  added  the  indignant  girl,  with  some 
faint  hope,  that  what  appeared  to  her  so  altogether 


196  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

unreasonable,  would  have  power  to  rouse  even  her 
mother's  gentle  disposition  to  rebellion. 

"  You  know,  my  dear  Augusta,  that  my  opinion  of 
your  father's  judgment  is  so  great,  that  when  he  says 
he  considers  a  thing  to  be  right,  I  never  have  any  in- 
clination to  question  his  decision ;  and  as  to  my  confi- 
dence in  his  affection  and  kindness,  it  is  so  unbounded, 
that  nothing  could  induce  me  for  a  moment  to  question 
his  arrangements  being  all  designed  for  our  ultimate 
comfort  and  happiness;  and,  therefore,  though  I  am 
as  sorry  to  leave  this  fascinating  spot  as  you  can 
possibly  be,  I  am  ready  at  any  moment  to  do  so, 
even  though  I  am  as  little  acquainted  with  the  busi- 
ness that  calls  him  to  Philadelphia,  or  Baltimore,  as 
you  are." 

"  But  why  cannot  papa  leave  us  here,  while  he 
returns  to  transact  this  wonderfully  important  business 
by  himself  ?"  argued  Augusta;  "  I  am  sure  it  would  be 
much  better,  than  to  oblige  us  to  drag  over  the  same 
uninteresting  road  so  often." 

"  That  I  will  not  do,  you  may  be  assured,  Augusta, 
and  therefore  it  is  unnecessary  to  trouble  yourself  any 
farther  on  that  point." 

"  Nor  would  I  consent  to  it,  even  if  you  could  be 
persuaded  to  it,"  added  Mrs.  Monkton.  "  Wherever 
you  go,  I  will  go,  and  thither,  of  course,  Augusta  will 
go  likewise." 

"  I  would  advise  you  then,  Augusta,"  said  her  father, 
"  since  you  find  that  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  alter  the 
nature  of  things,  to  summon  your  natural  good  sense 
to  your  aid,  and  submit  quietly  to  what  you  cannot 
avoid.  Go  therefore,  my  child,  and  give  Dawson  the 
necessary  orders,  and  assist  her  as  much  as  you  can, 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  197 

ibr  it  ought  to  be  your  study  to  spare  your  mamma  as 
much  fatigue  as  possible." 

Augusta  immediately  left  her  mother's  room,  and 
hastened  to  her  own,  but  not  for  the  purpose  of  staying 
there  to  assist  Dawson  with  the  packing.  On  the 
contrary,  she  simply  told  the  maid  of  their  intended 
departure  on  the  following  morning,  and  desired  her  to 
prepare  for  it,  and  then  putting  on  her  bonnet,  and 
throwing  a  scarf  over  her  shoulders,  she  hastened  to 
join  Miss  Grants  and  her  brother,  who  were  waiting 
for  her  in  the  parlour. 

Augusta's  countenance  was  too  expressive  a  one  not 
immediately  to  discover  to  the  observation  of  her 
companions,  that  something  had  occurred  to  ruffle  and 
agitate  her ;  nor  was  it  long  before  their  inquiries  had 
drawn  from  her  a  full  account  of  the  conversation  that 
had  taken  place  in  her  mother's  room. 

The  exclamations  of  "  Caprice  !"  "  Tyranny  !" 
"  Persecution  !"  and  the  like,  burst  from  both  brother 
and  sister,  repeatedly,  as  she  spoke ;  so  that  before  she 
had  ceased  speaking,  they  had  worked  her  up  into  a 
full  belief  that  her  father  had  no  object  in  view  but 
that  of  tormenting  her,  nor  any  business  in  this 
projected  journey  but  that  of  taking  her  away  from 
friends,  to  whom  he  happened  to  have  taken  a  capricious 
dislike." 

When  they  had  descended  to  the  rocks,  over  which 
the  romantic  stream  forces  its  way  in  so  many  wild 
and  beautiful  forms,  Grants  proposed,  that  instead  of 
exploring  the  scenery  any  farther,  for  the  present, 
that  they  should  sit  down  upon  one  of  the  ledges, 
which  formed  seats  as  convenient  as  if  they  had  been 
made  for  the  purpose,  declaring  that  he  felt  so  com- 

R2 


188  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

pletely  unhinged  by  the  intelligence  that  he  had  just 
received,  that  paradise  itself  would  be  only  purgatory 
to  him  at  present. 

Delighted  to  find  so  much  sympathy  for  her  irritated 
feelings,  Augusta  simply  proposed  that  they  should 
turn  the  point  of  a  shelving  rock,  at  a  short  distance, 
which  would  bring  them  in  sight  of  a  smooth,  beautiful 
fall  of  water,  and  then  sit  down.  This  was  done  ;  but 
before  they  had  sat  many  minutes,  Miss  Grants, 
declaring  that  she  could  not  rest  without  ascending  a 
little  higher  and  taking  a  peep  at  what  was  to  be  seen 
from  the  height  from  which  the  water  descended,  ran 
off,  promising  to  return  in  a  few  minutes  ;  and  leaving 
her  brother  to  wonder  how  Juliana  could  take  any  inte- 
rest, even  in  these  wildest  of  nature's  scenes,  at  a 
moment  when  they  were  about  to  be  deprived  of  one 
of  the  most  finished  of  her  works. 

"  Whenever  I  see  you,  Miss  Monkton,"  said  the 
young  man,  assuming  a  look  and  tone  of  tender- 
ness, that  he  had  never  before  ventured  upon,  "  I  am 
only  sensible  of  one  subject  of  regret  to  mingle  alloy 
with  the  happiness  of  being  with  you ;  and  that  arises 
from  your  not  being  a  native  of  this  country." 

"  What,  are  you  so  exceedingly  bigoted  to  your 
own  country,  as  that  comes  to  ?"  asked  Augusta,  with 
surprise. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  It  is  not 
that  you  would  have  been  more  beautiful  or  more 
interesting  in  my  eyes,  for  being  American ;  but  that 
you  would  have  been  brought  up  with  different  ideas 
of  independence  than  you  have  at  present,  for  the 
young  people  here  certainly  much  sooner  acquire 


THE   TWO    SCHOOLS.  199 

resolution  to  act  for  themselves,  than  they  do  in  Eng- 
land." 

"  That  I  conceive,"  said  Augusta,  with  great  sim- 
plicity, "  can  only  be  the  case  when  they  happen  to 
have  fortunes  which  make  them  really  independent. 
What  good,  for  instance,  could  I  do  by  asserting  my 
independence,  and  refusing  to  accompany  papa  and 
mamma  back  to  Philadelphia  ?  I  have  no  money,  that 
I  could  command,  if  papa  chose  to  withhold  it  from 
me.  Besides,  after  all,  what  could  a  young  girl,  such 
as  I  am,  do  in  a  strange  country  without  a  protector  ?' 

"  Nothing,  certainly.  But,  dear  Augusta,  there  are 
other  protectors  besides  fathers,  that  young  ladies 
sometimes  find;"  and  as  he  spoke,  he  took  the  hand 
of  his  companion,  who  felt  confused  and  almost  fright 
ened,  though  she  scarcely  knew  why.  "  Have  you 
never  seen  such  a  protector  that  you  could  intrust 
with  the  care  of  your  happiness,"  continued  the  young 
man,  striving,  as  he  spoke,  to  meet  Augusta's  eye, 
which  she  studiously  averted  from  him. 

"  I  have  never  thought  on.  the  subject,"  returned 
the  agitated  girl ;  "  I  am  too  young  to  think  of  such 
things." 

"  Why  too  young,  if  you  could  increase  your  happi- 
ness by  it  ?  Surely,  youth  does  not  exclude  the  idea 
of  enjoyment.  Ask  yourself,  lovely  and  beloved 
Augusta,  why  you  should  not  place  yourself  under  the 
care  of  a  protector,  who  would  make  it  the  study  of  his 
life  to  promote  your  happiness,  and  leave  your  father 
and  mother  to  prosecute  their  wanderings  as  they 
think  fit ;  and  then,  when  they  are  weary  of  travelling, 
they  can  return  to  you  again,  and  find  the  same  affec- 
tionate daughter  that  you  ever  were." 


200  THE    TWO   SCHOOLS. 

"  O,  no  !  that  could  never  be.  Nothing  in  the  world 
would  induce  papa  to  consent  to  my  leaving  him." 

"  But  what  could  he  do,  if  some  other  in  the  mean 
time  had  acquired  a  higher  claim,  and  refused  to  let 
you  go  ?" 

"  O,  that  is  impossible  !  It  could  never  be.  Pray 
let  me  go !"  she  continued ;  "  I  must  not  stay  here 
It  is  not  proper  that  I  should  listen  to  such  language  ;" 
and  as  she  spoke,  she  made  an  effort  to  rise ;  but  the 
young  man,  putting  his  arm  round  her  waist,  held  her 
down  with  gentle  force. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  tenderly;  "I  have 
no  wish  to  persuade  you  to  any  thing  contrary  to 
your  feelings  and  inclinations  ;  but  only  think  what 
there  is  that  is  so  very  terrible  in  my  suggestion. 
Your  parents  cannot  expect  to  keep  you  always 
with  them ;  they  must  have  laid  their  accounts  some 
time  ago,  for  being  called  upon,  before  long,  to  resign 
you  to  the  care  of  another ;  and  who  that  other  shall 
be,  they  surely,  arbitrary  as  they  seem  to  be,  would  not 
think  of  deciding  for  you.  All,  therefore,  that  you 
have  to  determine,  dear  Augusta,  is,  whether  you  can 
prevail  upon  yourself  to  make  me  happy.  You  know, 
you  cannot  but  know,  my  devotion  to  you.  My  for- 
tune is  ample,  and  my  connexions  amongst  the  very 
first  in  the  country ;  so  that  the  only  difficulty  that  you 
have  to  encounter,  is  the  trifling  one,  of  a  few  hours' 
displeasure  from  your  father,  on  account  of  your 
having  ventured  to  take  a  step  without  his  permission  ; 
which,  considering  the  tyranny  he  has  lately  exercised 
over  you,  he  cannot  but  acknowledge  to  be  a  very 
natural  one.  Speak  then,  beloved  Augusta,"  con- 
tinued the  lover,  pressing  her  hand  tenderly,  as  he 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  201 

spoke,  "and  say  that  you  will  make  me  happy  by 
giving  me  a  superior  claim,  even  to  that  of  your  father 
himself." 

"  O,  that  cannot  be,"  answered  Augusta,  in  extreme 
agitation ;  for  though  her  rebellious  spirit  was  fasci- 
nated with  the  independence  which  the  proposed  plan 
would  testify,  her  better  judgment  revolted  against  it 
as  undutiful  and  ungrateful.  "How  can  it  be?  It  is 
impossible.  We  are  to  leave  here  very  early  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  And  where  is  the  difficulty  ?"  inquired  the  young 
man.  "  You  say  you  are  to  leave  here  early  to-morrow 
morning ;  but  why  may  you  not  leave  to-night,  and  let 
your  father  and  mother  follow  after  in  the  morning?" 

Augusta  looked  at  him  with  a  surprised  and  inquir- 
ing expression,  and  he  continued,  "  It  can  be  managed 
without  the  slightest  difficulty.  I  will  take  a  horse 
and  ride  over  to  Utica,  and  be  back  with  a  carriage 
about  nine  o'clock.  By  that  time  you  can  have  retired 
to  your  own  room,  under  the  plea  of  having  to  rise 
early.  Juliana  shall  muffle  herself  in  a  long  cloak 
and  calash,  and  come  and  tap  at  your  room  door, 
and  invite  you,  if  your  maid  should  happen  to  be  in 
the  room,  to  come  out  awhile  and  enjoy  the  moon, 
light.  You,  of  course,  will  wrap  yourself  up  also, 
and  at  the  front  door  I  shall  be  stationed,  ready  to  re- 
ceive you,  wrapped  in  a  long  cloak  that  I  always  carry 
with  me  when  travelling,  and  a  cap  so  drawn  over  my 
face,  that  it  would  not  be  easy  for  even  your  father,  if 
he  should  happen  to  be  near,  to  recognise  me.  "We 
will  hasten  immediately  to  the  carriage,  which  I  will 
leave  at  a  short  distance  from  the  house,  and  in  which 
mamma  shall  be  already  placed,  to  receive  you ;  so 


202  THE   TWO    SCHOOLS. 

that  you  will  not  be  a  moment  out  of  matronly  protec- 
tion. Away  then  we  will  dash"  lo  Utica,  where  a  cler- 
gyman shall  be  in  waiting,  to  perform  the  ceremony  ; 
so  that,  when  your  father  comes  after  us,  he  will  find 
that  you  have  blessed  me  by  making  me  .the  guardian 
of  your  future  life.  Can  any  thing  be  easier  than  this 
plan,  or  more  likely  to  secure  our  future  happiness  ? 
Only  say,  then,  dearest  Augusta,  that  you  will  consent, 
and  all  will  be  smooth  and  easy." 

"But  my  poor  mamma,"  said  Augusta;  "  how  it 
would  distress  her." 

.*'  Not  at  all,  believe  me.  There  never  was  a  mo- 
ther yet,  who  had  not  a  great  deal  more  pleasure  than 
pain  from  the  marriage  of  a  daughter,  provided  the 
choice  that  her  daughter  had  made  was  not  a  degrading 
one ;  and  in  this  instance,  I  trust,  such  an  objection 
will  not  exist.  All,  therefore,  that  we  shall  have  to 
encounter  will  be  a  few  blustcrings  from  your  father ; 
which  your  mother's  tears  and  our  concessions  will 
soon  soften,  and  all  will  be  smooth  and  happy ;  and  I 
trust,  before  a  week  is  over,  my  Augusta  will  acknow- 
ledge, that  she  has  only  just  begun  to  know  what 
happiness  is.  Let  me,  then,  dear  Augusta,  have  your 
consent  at  once,"  urged  the  young  man,  with  increased 
earnestness,  as  he  perceived  Augusta's  objections  to 
become  gradually  more  and  more  faint.  Say  but  that 
you  agree  to  the  plan  I  have  proposed,  and  I  am  off  in 
an  instant." 

"  You  must  let  me  have  some  time  to  think  about 
it,5>  replied  the  hesitating,  half-yielding  girl.  "  It  is 
so  sudden.  I  must  have  a  little  more  time  for  reflec- 
tion." 

"  A  little  time,  and  all   will  be  destroyed.     Con- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  203 

sider,"  continued  he,  taking  out  his  watch,  "it  is  now 
three  o'clock,  and  I  must  be  at  Utica,  and  back  here 
with  a  carriage  by  nine.  There  is  not,  therefore,  a 
moment  to  lose.  Let  me,  then,  have  the  sweet  con- 
senting '  yes,'  that  I  see  trembles  on  your  tongue,  and 
you  will  make  me  the  happiest  of  men." 

After  a  few  more  scruples  and  objections,  the  con- 
senting '  yes'  was  given,  and  the  moment  it  was 
obtained,  the  impatient  lover  flew  to  recall  his  sister, 
who  had  strayed  to  a  considerable  distance  ;  and  while 
he  did  so,  Augusta  paced  back  and  forward,  almost 
afraid  to  allow  herself  to  think  for  a  moment  on  what 
she  had  done.  While  thus  walking,  she  happened 
to  go  beyond  the  projection  of  the  rock,  behind 
which  they  had  seated  themselves,  when  she  was  a 
good  deal  startled  at  seeing  her  father  walking  along 
at  some  distance  from  her.  His  course  was,  however, 
from  instead  of  towards  her ;  and  as  he  appeared  to 
be  proceeding  in  a  leisurely  manner  towards  the  house, 
she  concluded,  that  he  had  come,  as  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  do,  to  take  a  stroll  among  the  rocks,  but  had 
turned  again,  perhaps  on  account  of  the  heat,  before 
he  had  reached  the  place  where  they  were.  Tremb- 
ling at  the  idea  of  the  narrow  escape  they  had  had, 
Augusta  waited  impatiently  for  the  return  of  her  lover 
and  his  sister ;  and  the  moment  they  arrived,  almost 
without  allowing  Juliana  time  to  kiss,  and  call  her 
"  dear  sister,"  she  urged  their  return  to  the  house ;  and 
the  moment  they  arrived  there,  she  flew  to  her  cham- 
ber, and  locked  herself  in. 


204  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN  the  stillness  of  her  own  apartment,  Augusta's 
better  feelings  were  frequently  on  the  point  of  carrying 
her  to  her  father  and  mother,  and  frankly  acknowledg- 
ing the  folly  of  which  she  had  been  guilty  ;  but  pride 
as  often  recurred  to  counteract  the  virtuous  impulse, 
and  hold  her  back.  And  after  all,  she  remonstrated 
inwardly,  but  as  if  in  reply  to  some  objections  that  had 
been  made  :  "  What  have  I  done,  but  what  hundreds 
of  girls  have  done  before  me  ?  It  is  true,  that  I  am 
young,  but  many  have  been  married  younger  than  even 
I  am.  Mrs.  Daley  and  Mrs.  Cornwall  both  told  me 
that  they  were  only  fourteen  when  they  were  married  ; 
and  I  am  a  good  deal  more  than  fifteen.  And  as  to 
marrying  without  papa  and  mamma's  consent,  they 
surely  cannot  wonder  very  much  at  it,  considering  that 
they  have  made  a  point  of  refusing  almost  every  thing 
I  have  asked  of  them  for  a  long  time ;  and  it  is  cer- 
tainly better  to  do  it  without  their  leave  than  against 
it.  It  is  true,  I  do  not  love  Mr.  Grants ;  indeed  1 
never  thought  I  cared  any  thing  for  him,  till  I  found 
that  papa  was  so  anxious  to  keep  me  out  of  his  way ; 
but  then,  after  all,  how  very  few  people  there  are  who 
marry  for  love.  To  let  the  judgment  make  the  selec- 
tion, and  the  love  to  come  after,  I  have  often  heard  was 
the  way  to  secure  happiness ;  and  I  am  sure  it  is 
impossible  that  the  judgment  should  not  approve  of 
such  a  man  as  Mr.  Grants.  I  know  he  is  young  and 


THE   TWO    SCHOOLS.  205 

good  looking;  he  says  he  is  rich,  and  of  a  good 
family ;  and  his  sister  says  he  is  very  amiable.  The 
only  objection  that  papa  can  reasonably  make,  is,  that 
I  did  not  ask  his  consent,  and  at  that  he  will  no  doubt 
storm  for  a  while  very  furiously ;  but  it  will  wear  off 
in  time,  and  we  shall,  no  doubt,  be  better  friends  after- 
wards ;  for  he  will  have  no  right  then  to  order  me 
about  with  so  much  authority,  and  that  is  the  only 
thing  in  which  we  ever  disagree.  If  he  would  not 
oblige  me  to  object  to  his  arbitrary  commands,  we 
should  be  as  good  friends  as  possible."  With  these 
and  a  variety  of  other  equally  substantial  arguments, 
Augusta  endeavoured  to  quiet  her  rebellious  conscience 
during  the  interval  of  waiting  for  the  return  of  her 
lover,  whom  she  had  seen  from  her  window  mount  his 
horse  and  ride  off.  It  had  been  agreed,  in  their  walk 
from  the  Falls,  that  Juliana  should  not  come  near  her 
during  her  brother's  absence,  or  any  thing  be  done  that 
could  have  the  appearance  of  their  feeling  any  particu- 
lar interest  in  Augusta's  proceedings,  so  that  time 
passed ;  the  warning  bell  for  supper  rang,  and  even 
the  second  bell  gave  its  summons  to  the  supper  table, 
without  the  train  of  Augusta's  thoughts  having  been 
interrupted  by  a  single  visit  even  from  her  mother  or 
Dawson.  At  length  Dawson  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
said  she  had  brought  her  some  supper  up,  as  her  papa 
was  not  in  at  present,  and  her  mamma  did  not  wish  to 
go  down-stairs  without  him.  "*• 

"  Has  mamma  never  inquired  for  me  ?"  asked  she, 
as  she  opened  the  door,  and  Dawson  placed  the  tray  on 
a  table  beside  her. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  answered  the  girl ;  "  your  mamma 
only  said,  she  supposed  you  had  been  so  discomposed 


206  THE    TWO    SCHOOL?. 

•with  what  had  occurred  in  the  afternoon,  that  you 
would  prefer  being  alone,  and  therefore  she  would  not 
disturb  you  ;  and  desired  me  not  to  do  so  either." 

"  She  is  very  kind,"  said  Augusta,  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears  as  she  spoke,  at  the  thought  of  the  pain  she 
was  about  to  inflict  upon  this  tenderest  and  most  indul- 
gent of  parents  ;  but,  at  the  same  moment,  remembering 
Mr.  Grants'  assurance,  that  every  mother  had  more 
pleasure  than  pain  from  the  marriage  of  a  daughter, 
she  checked  the  rising  gush  of  tenderness,  and  per- 
suaded herself  that  the  pain  would  be  temporary,  but 
the  pleasure  would  be  lasting  as  life.  At  present,  her 
parents  and  herself  were  three  beings  who  stood  almost 
alone  in  the  world,  for  her  mother's  low  spirits  had 
induced  her  to  estrange  herself  so  much  from  society, 
that  she  scarcely  had  a  single  intimate  friend  left,  and 
as  to  their  relatives,  they  were  all  so  distantly  con- 
nected with  them,  that  they  could  scarcely  be  ranked 
as  nearer  .than  mere  acquaintances.  But  when  she  had 
formed  other  relationships,  the  various  members  of  the 
family  of  which  she  had  become  a  part  would  imme- 
diately appear  to  her  mother  as  all  belonging  to  her 
own ;  and  she  would  thus  have  a  more  extended  circle 
of  companions,  without  the  pain  of  having  to  mix 
amongst  strangers  to  find  them.  How  much  sophistry 
will  the  heart  call  to  its  aid  when  determined  to  recon- 
cile itself  to  what  the  judgment  condemns  ;  and  how 
clamorously  will  it  seek  to  silence  the  pleadings  of  con- 
science when  a  favourite  object  is  to  be  accomplished. 
Augusta  knew  that  her  judgment  condemned,  but  her 
pride  was  offended,  and  called  loudly  for  revenge  ;  her 
conscience  told  her  she  was  doing  wrong,  but  a  false 
notion  of  honour,  from  the  consideration  of  having 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  207 

passed  her  word  to  Mr.  Grants,  checked  every  better 
impulse,  and  she  persevered  in  her  determination, 
though  sickening  every  moment  at  the  thought  of  what 
she  was  doing.  "  Tell  mamma  that  I  shall  not  see 
her  again  to-night,"  said  she  to  Dawson,  when  she 
came  to  take  away  the  supper  tray,  that  had  stood 
without  Augusta's  having  touched  a  particle  of  its  con- 
tents. "  I  feel  uncomfortable,  and  do  not  wish  to  see 
papa  again  till  I  am  in  better  humour."  The  time 
now  drew  near  when  she  might  expect  Juliana's  sum- 
mons. She  laid  her  cloak  and  calash  close  at  hand, 
and  sat  down  at  the  window  to  listen  for  the  sounds 
of  a  distant  carriage.  Frequently  they  seemed  to  meet 
her  ear ;  but  she  found,  after  listening  awhile,  that  it 
was  the  fall  of  the  water  from  some  of  the  cascades 
that  had  deceived  her  into  the  idea  that  her  lover  was 
approaching. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night,  and  the  few 
visiters  that  were  in  the  house  had  almost  all  wandered 
down  the  hill,  to  admire  the  play  of  the  moonbeams 
on  the  romantic  stream  that  had  drawn  them  to  the 
place,  and  all  seemed  hushed  in  quietness  and  repose. 
At  length,  a  sound  that  Augusta  was  certain  was  that 
of  a  carriage,  reached  her  ear.  She  looked  at  her 
watch,  which  the  light  of  the  moon  enabled  her  to  see. 
It  was  not  quite  half  past  eight  o'clock.  Her  heart 
began  to  palpitate  excessively.  How  alert  he  had  been, 
and  how  much  affection  did  such  alertness  discover. 
Ought  she  not  to  show  her  sense  of  his  kindness,  by 
performing  her  part  of  the  engagement  with  compo- 
sure, at  least,  if  she  could  not  do  it  with  cheerfulness. 
That  certainly  was  the  very  least  she  could  do,  and 
for  this  purpose  she  struggled,  with  a  degree  of  reso- 


208  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

lution  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  to  quiet  the  beatings 
of  her  heart,  which  made  such  a  noise  that  she  almost 
imagined  it  might  be  heard  by  others.  At  length,  a 
gentle  tap  came  to  the  door ;  it  was  the  signal  agreed 
upon,  and  therefore,  without  losing  a  moment  of  time, 
she  threw  her  cloak  over  her  shoulders,  and  putting 
on  her  calash,  she  opened  the  door. 

"  Juliana —  are  you  sure  your  brother  is  come  ?" 
she  was  going  to  say,  but  before  she  had  pronounced 
more  than  the  name,  a  finger  raised  in  token  of  silence, 
and  a  softly  whispered  hush,  stopped  her,  and  she 
followed,  without  making  another  attempt  at  speaking. 
Scarcely  had  she  reached  beyond  the  portals  of  the 
front  door,  when  a  gentleman  came  forward,  from  the 
shade  in  which  he  had  been  standing,  and  taking  her 
hand,  and  giving  it  an  affectionate  and  encouraging 
pressure,  he  drew  it  under  his  arm,  while  his  other 
arm  was  taken  by  her  companion,  and  they  hasten- 
ed almost  in  a  run,  but  still  maintaining  profound 
silence,  to  a  considerable  distance  from  the  house, 
where,  under  the  shade  of  a  large,  spreading  tree, 
stood  a  carriage,  with  the  steps  down,  and  the  door 
open,  into  which  Augusta  was  immediately  handed. 
She  had  just  presence  of  mind  sufficient  to  look,  before 
she  got  quite  in,  if  Mrs.  Grants  was  really  there  ;  but 
she  was  not  kept  a  moment  in  suspense,  for  the  hand 
that  was  held  out  to  help  her  in,  and  the  arm  that  en- 
circled her  waist,  the  moment  she  was  seated,  told  her 
at  once,  that  her  lover  had,  in  all  things,  made  good  his 
engagement.  The  moment  her  two  companions  had 
taken  their  seats  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  carriage, 
the  steps  were  put  up,  and  the  door  closed  with  the 
greatest  caution,  and,  as  the  road  is  pretty  good,  they 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS  209 

passed  over  the  ground  with  great  rapidity ;  but,  as 
the  whole  party  maintained  a  profound  silence,  Augusta 
might  have  become  rather  uneasy,  had  not  a  frequent 
tender  pressure  of  her  hand  convinced  her  that  some 
circumstance  unknown  to  her  rendered  this  silence 
necessary.  Thus  situated,  though  they  travelled  with 
considerable  speed,  the  time  appeared  long  to  Au- 
gusta, who  did  not  find  her  own  thoughts  the  most 
agreeable  companions ;  but  at  length,  the  carriage 
stopped  at  the  door  of  a  large  hotel.  The  gentleman, 
the  moment  the  door  was  opened,  jumped  out,  and 
assisted  or  rather  lifted  her  out  of  the  carriage,  and 
hurried  her  up-stairs,  into  a  room  that  was  ready 
lighted.  "  You  may  uncover  your  face  now,  for  you 
are  safe  amongst  your  friends,"  said  a  voice  that  made 
Augusta  scream  in  an  agony  of  terror,  for  it  was  the 
voice  of  her — father. 


210  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


explanation  is  necessary  to  account  for  the 
events  we  have  related  in  the  preceding  chapter. 
With  his  suspicions  so  much  awakened,  with  respect 
to  the  object  of  the  Grants,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  Mr.  Monkton  would  leave  his  daughter  long 
with  them,  without  looking  after  her.  The  moment, 
therefore,  that  he  learned  from  Dawson  that  she  had 
merely  stayed  to  give  her  a  few  general  directions,  and 
had  then  hastened  to  the  Falls,  with  Miss  Grants  and 
her  brother,  he  followed  them,  with  the  intention  of 
joining  them  in  their  walk,  but  had  neither  overr 
taken  them,  nor  been  observed  to  be  following,  when 
they  turned  the  point  of  rock  that  we  have  before 
mentioned.  On.  reaching  that  point  himself,  he  was 
struck  with  the  sound  of  Grants'  voice,  speaking  in  a 
tone  of  earnestness  that  startled  him.  He  conse- 
quently paused,  and,  screened  from  observation  by 
the  projection  of  the  rock,  he  had  an  opportunity  of 
hearing  the  whole  conversation.  The  moment,  how- 
ever, that  Augusta  had  gi\*n  her  consent,  he  hastened 
away,  determined  to  have  the  advantage  of  at  least 
half  an  hour's  earlier  start,  to  anticipate  the  plans  of 
the  young  man.  For  this  purpose,  he  proceeded  to 
Utica  with  speed  equal  to  that  of  any  lover,  and 
engaged  all  the  carriages  he  could  hear  of  in  the 
place  at  a  very  extravagant  rate,  to  be  ready  when  he 
should  require  them,  so  that  Grants  was  sure  to  be 


THE   TWO    SCHOOLS.  211 

detained  a  considerable  time  seeking  for  one.  He 
then  returned,  and  placed  Mrs.  Monkton  in  the  car- 
riage, in  which  he  had  come  to  the  Falls,  and  sent 
Dawspn  to  act  the  part  of  Juliana,  while  he  stationed 
himself  at  the  door  to  perform  that  of  the  lover. 
As  he  had  made  Mrs.  Monkton  acquainted  with 
his  plan  before  he  went  to  Utica,  .all  was  in  readi- 
ness, when  he  came  back,  for  their  departure  ;  while 
his  valet  was  left  to  settle  with  the  master  of  the  hotel, 
and  follow  with  the  baggage.  It  was  by  mutual  agree- 
ment, that  Mrs.  Monkton  had  left  Augusta  entirely  to 
herself  during  his  absence,  as  her  husband  was  fearful 
that  if  much  in  the  presence  o£,  her  daughter,  the  ten- 
derness of  the  mother  might  interfere  with  his  plans, 
and  by  an  anxiety  to  save  Augusta  a  temporary  morti- 
cation,  she  might  deprive  him  altogether  of  the  chance 
of  rescuing  his  daughter  from  the  danger  that  was 
impending  over  her. 

All  went  on,  however,  as  fortunately  as  possible ; 
and  even  Augusta  herself,  as  soon  as  the  painful  sense 
of  shame  and  humiliation  was  softened  down,  by  find- 
ing that  her  parents  viewed  her  conduct  more  as  that 
of  a  self-willed  child,  that  had  been  made  the  dupe  of 
designing  people,  than  as  one  who  had  intentionally 
acted  ,an  unprincipled  and  undutiful  part,  soon  reco- 
vered.her  composure.  As  she  was  naturally  a  girl  of 
good  judgment  and  discriminating  mind,  it  was  no  diffi- 
cult thing  to  convince  her,  by  pointing  out  to  her  con- 
sideration the  very  short  acquaintance  that  had  existed 
between  the  two  families,  and  the  very  indelicate  man- 
ner in  which  the  Grants  had  forced  themselves  into 
their  society ;  and  above  all,  the  very  dishonourable 
conduct  of  the  young  man,  in  taking  advantage  of  her 


212  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

extreme  youth  and  inexperience,  to  prevail  upon  her 
to  take  the  clandestine  and  disobedient  step  she  had 
meditated ;  that  her  fortune  had  been  .the  sole  object 
of  his  pursuit ;  and  under  such  a  conviction,  she  could 
only  feel  thankfulness  for  her  happy  escape,  and  grati- 
tude to  her  father  for  the  judicious  manner  in  which 
he  had  accomplished  her  rescue.  When  the  mind  is 
distorted,  every  thing,  of  course,  is  seen  through  a 
false  medium  ;  and  Augusta,  consequently,  while  under 
the  influence  of  the  Grants'  artful  insinuations,  saw 
only  tyranny  and  oppression  in  all  her  father's  arrange- 
ments ;  but  her  "mind  once  opened  to  the  truth,  she 
was  immediately  released  from  the  baneful  illusion, 
and  was  perfectly  satisfied  to  accompany  her  parents 
wherever  they  thought  fit  to  go. 

As  soon  as  she  had  gained  sufficient  composure  to 
write,  she  addressed  a  note  to  Juliana ;  informing  her 
of  her  sincere  repentance  for  the  errors  into  which 
she  had  been  leoV,  and  her  wish  that  all  further  com- 
munication between  them  should  cease  ;  as  well  as  her 
determination  never  in  future  to  take  any  important 
step  without  the  knowledge  and  concurrence  of  both 
her  parents.  This  letter  her  father  took  care  to  de- 
spatch to  her  quondam  friend,  an<J  the  penitent  girl 
then  laid  her  head  upon  the  pillow  with  a  more  com- 
posed and  satisfied  mind  than  she  had  for  a  consider- 
able time  enjoyed.  To  the  young,  sound  sleep  seldom 
fails  to  come  in  as  a  kind  refresher ;  and  Augusta  rose, 
in  the  morning,  with  recruited  strength  and  spirits, 
and  left  Utica  with  a  feeling  of  great  satisfaction,  from 
the  consideration  that  their  course  was  in  an  opposite 
direction  to  that  which  the  Grants  were  likely  to  take. 
Nor  did  she  feel  any  longer  disposed  to  trouble  her- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  213 

pelf  about  her  father's  motives  for  thus  stopping  short 
before  he  had  got  halfway  to  the  destined  point,  with- 
out having  either  accomplished  a  meeting  with  his 
wards,  or  viewed  the  mighty  Niagara  ;  but  satisfied 
that  business,  connected  with  the  young  people  under 
his  care,  or  at  least  something  of  importance,  had 
influenced  his  actions,  she  was  contented  to  wait  till 
he  thought  fit  to  give  an  explanation. 

Humbled  at  a  recollection  of  the  folly  and  even 
wickedness  of  her  conduct,  Augusta,  though  good- 
humoured  and  obliging,  was  grave  and  thoughtful 
during  their  journey;  and  the  attention  which  her 
father  and  mother  paid  her,  and  the  efforts  they  made 
to  restore  her  to  her  usual  cheerfulness,  served  only  to 
produce  a  contrary  effect.  The  more  she  became 
sensible  of  their  indulgent  kindness,  the  more  pain- 
fully she  was  struck  with  a  sense  of  her  own  ingrati- 
tude ;  and  the  tear  of  self-condemnation,  a  feeling 
hitherto  almost  totally  unknown  to  her,  often  sprang 
to  her  eye  at  the  very  moment  that  her,  father  was 
using  his  best  endeavours  to  call  up  a  smile  on  her 
countenance.  The  road  from  Utica  to  Philadelphia, 
with  the  exception  of  the  sail  down  the  North  River, 
is  so  uninteresting,  that  the  only  object  to  be  desired 
was  to  get  over  it  as  quickly  as  possible  ;  and  as  Mr. 
Monkton  availed  himself  of  every  means  that  money 
could  procure  to  facilitate  their  progress,  they  found 
themselves  again  in  Philadelphia  in  an  almost  incredi- 
oly  short  period  from  the  time  of  their  leaving  Utica. 
Here,  however,  Mr.  Monkton  found  it  necessary,  in 
consequence  of  his  wife's  state  of  health,  to  remain 
some  days  ;  but  as  soon  as  she  was  able  to  proceed, 
he  declared  his  wish  to  hasten  to  Baltimore. 


214  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

"I  shall  at  last  see  the  interesting  Mary  M'Donald 
then,"  said  Augusta,  with  more  animation  than  she 
had  for  several  days  displayed  ;  "  I  hope  I  have  not 
lost  the  note  of  introduction  that  the  good  Sister  gave 
me.  O  no  !  here  it  is,"  added  she,  as  she  opened  her 
writing  case  and  looked  among  her  papers.  "  How  I 
long  to  see  her  beautiful  face,  which  all  agree  in  say 
ing  is  so  indicative  of  her  beautiful  mind  ;  and  as  her 
situation  in  life  is  such  as  to  afford  easy  access  to  her, 
I  will  endeavour  to  make  a  friend  of  her  at  once ;  I 
will  try  to  make  her  love  me,  and  to  teach  me  to  be  as 
good  as  she  is  herself." 

*'  I  am  store,  Miss  Augusta,"  said  Dawson,  who  was 
helping  her  young  mistress  to  dress,  at  the  time  that 
tltese  anticipations  of  pleasure  from  an  acquaintance 
with  Mary  M'Donald  were  expressed,  "I  hope  the 
first  thing  you  do  when  you  get  to  Baltimore,  will  be 
to  get  a  new  dress,  both  for  yourself  and  your  mamma, 
for  I  declare  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  the  dresses  you 
are  wearing  at  present." 

"  No,  not  the  first  thine,  Dawson,  you  must  not  ex 
pect  that  a  dress  will  be.  the  first  object."  ••.*,-.• 

"  Well,  if  it  is  not  for  yourself,  I  hope  at  least  that 
one  for  your  mamma  will  be  your  first  care.  You 
know  my  mistress  never  cares  herself  what  sort  of 
dresses  she  wears  ;  and  when  she  was  at  home,  it  was 
not  much  matter,  for  everybody  knew  her  to  be  a  lady, 
and  of  course  behaved  to  her  accordingly  ;  but  it  is 
not  the  same  here.  1  declare  I  could  have  knocked  an 
old  woman  down  the  other  day  as  we  were  coming  out 
of  the  New  York  boat ;  when  she  gave  my  mistress  a 
push  with  her  elbow  -and  said,  '  Please  to  stand  out  of 
the  way,  and  let  me  come  past.'  I  thought  directly 


.  - 

THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  215 

that  it  was  necessary  in  this  strange  country,  that  your 
mamma  should  dress  in  a  manner  more  becoming  her 
station  in  life ;  for  I  see  plainly  that  the  people  here 
pay  more  respect  to  good  dress  than  to  good  man- 
ners." 

"  Because  they  can  understand  the  one  better  than 
the  other,"  replied  Augusta,  with  a  touch  of  her  usual 
severity. 

""Well,  I  do  not  see  that  they  show  any  very  great 
taste  even  in  that,"  returned  the  maid  ;  "  or  else  we 
should  not  see  ladies  travelling  in  steamboats  and 
stages,  dressed  up  in  muslin  frocks,  and  lace  capes, .and 
such  things  as  those." 

"  I  find  you  are  like  most  of  our  country  people, 
Dawson,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton,  who  came  into  the 
room  in  time  to  hear  the  latter  part  of  this  conversation  ; 
"  and  that  you  sel;  down  every  thing  as  a  proof  of  bad 
taste,  that  differs  from  what  you  have  been  accustom- 
ed toy" 

*4  Well  indeed,  madam,  I  do  think  it  looks  very  ill 
to  see  people  with  thin  dresses  on,  to  travel  with." 

"  But  you  do  not  consider  the  heat  of  the  weather. 
I  declare  you  have  made  me  wear  this  thick  habit  till 
it  has  almost  smothered  me,  and  I  am  quite  rejoiced  to 
hear  you  begin  to  talk  about  its  being  too  shabby  for 
me  to  wear  any  longer." 

"  We  have  just  determined,  mamma,  that  you  are  to 
have  a  new  one  the  moment  we  get  to  Baltimore." 

"  Very  well,  but  no  more  cloth  habits  to  wear  while 
the  weather  is  so  warm.  Remember  that,  Dawson." 

"  Very  well,  madam.  But  no  travelling  in  thin  frocks 
and  lace  capes  either." 

Mrs.  Monkton  smiled,  but  made  no  reply,  and  the 


216  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

conversation  ended.  But  before  they  had  been  an 
hour  in  Baltimore,  Dawson  came  into  Augusta's  room 
and  informing  her  that  she  had  informed  herself  where 
dresses  would  be  made  up  immediately  for  herself  and 
her  mamma,  begged  she  would  go  out  with  her  that 
very  moment  to  buy  them. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  must  be  humoured,"  said 
Augusta,  "  so  find  papa,  and  tell  him  to  send  me  some 
money,  and  we  will  go  at  once." 

Dawson  went,  and  soon  returned  with  a  hundred 
dollar  note. 

"  Your  papa  says  this  is  the  smallest  note  he  has, 
Miss  Augusta,"  said  she,  holding  out  the  note  as  she 
spoke. 

"  A  hundred  dollars  !"  exclaimed  Augusta  ;  "  what 
am  I  to  do  with  so  large  a  note  as  this  ?  the  Baltimore 
shops  must  be  very  different  from  those  we  have  seen 
in  other  places,  if  there  is  not  great  difficulty  in  getting 
it  changed." 

"  If  you  please,  miss,  I  will  get  it  changed  for  you 
at  the  bar;"  said  a  chambermaid,  that  was  busy  ar- 
ranging the  room  at  the  time-. 

Augusta  gave  her  the  note,  and  she  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  with  the  amount  in  notes  of  five  and  ten  dol- 
lars each. 

"  Well,  for  once  I  have  found  an  obliging  chamber- 
maid," exclaimed  Augusta,  as  she  set  out  in  search 
for  handsome  silks.  After  trying  several  stores,  at 
length  they  met  with  what  they  liked,  and  having  made 
their  purchases,  they  hastened  with  them  to  the  dress- 
maker's. On  inquiring  what  quantity  they  had  got, 
however,  the  dress-maker  declared  them  to  be  too 
scant  patterns,  and  therefore  Augusta  offered  by  way  of 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLSi  217 

saving  time  to  go  back  to  the  store  for  a  few  yards 
more,  while  Dawsoh  was  despatched  to  the  hotel  for  a 
pattern  dress.  "  This  is  the  advantage  of  travelling," 
thought  Augusta,  as  she  proceeded  along  the  street, 
taking  care  however  as  she  went  to  hold  her  veil  close 
over  her  face.  "  A  few  weeks  ago  I  would  as  soon  have 
thought  of  any  thing  as  walking  alone  through  the 
streets  of  a  strange  town,  and  especially  now  that  it  is 
beginning  to  be  late.  But  being  so  much  amongst 
strangers,  and  in  strange  places,  makes  one  very  inde- 
pendent." She  very  easily  found  her  way  back  to  the 
same  store,  where  she  got  the  additional  quantity  of 
silk  required,  and  a  few  other  things  having  taken  her 
fancy,  she  made  some  further  purchases  ;  all  of  which 
amounting  to  upwards  of  eight  dollars,  she  laid  down 
a  ten-  dollar  note,  which  the  store-keeper,  taking  up, 
said  he  must  go  to  get  changed,  and  immediately  left 
the  store.  As  he  did  so,  a  boy  belonging  to  it  came 
and  bent  over  the  counter,  and  looked,  with  a  very  pert 
familiar  sort  of  grin  on  his  countenance,  in  Augusta's 
face,  till  she  began  to  feel  herself  very  restless  and 
uncomfortable  ;  especially  as  she  noticed  that  the  sun 
was  getting  very  low,  and  recollected  how  soon  it  be- 
came dark  after  it  had  set.  She  had  therefore  just  de- 
termined to  go  away  without  waiting  for  the  change, 
when  the  man  met  her  in  the  door-way. 

"  You  must  go  back  again,  if  you  please,"  said  he, 
motioning  to  her  to  return  into  the  store.  "  I  cannot  let 
you  go  away  at  present." 

"  What  does  the  man  mean  ?"  exclaimed  Augusta,  in 
extreme  astonishment.  "  How  dare  you  speak  to  me 
in  that  way  ?" 

"  The  thing  will  soon  be  explained,"  replied  the 
T 


218  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

man,  very  coolly,  "  when  the  constable  comes  to  take 
you  to  the  magistrate." 

"  Constable  !  Magistrate !  What  is  the  fellow  talk- 
ing about  ?  Do  you  know  me  ?"  added  the  angry  girl, 
pulling  herself  up  with  a  look  of  dignity  that  she 
thought  could  not  fail  to  intimidate.  "  Are  you  aware 
that  you  are  speaking  to  Miss  Monkton,  of  Monkton 
Park."" 

"  I  don't  know  any  thing  of  the  kind,"  returned 
the  dry-goods  man  ;  "  but  I  know  that  I  have  got  four 
forged  notes  from  you,  and  I'll  be  bound  to  say,  there 
are  plenty  more  in  that  purse  of  yours."  • 

"There,  take  and  examine  it,"  cried  the  angry  girl ; 
and,  as  she  spoke,  she  threw  her  purse  on  the  floor  at 
the  man's  feet. 

"  Edward,  come  here,  and  be  witness  to  what  I  do," 
said  the  master  of  the  store,  as  he  deliberately  opened 
the  purse,  and  examined  the  notes,  all  of  which  he 
found  to  be  of  the  same  description  as  those  he  had 
before  seen. 

"  Here  is  a  wholesale  dealer,"  said  he,  looking  at 
Augusta  as  he  spoke,  and,  at  the  same  time,  holding 
the  notes  out  to  a  constable,  who  at  this  moment 
entered.  "  She  and  her  mother  have  been  carrying  on 
business  for  a  long  time,  with  so  much  success,  that  I 
suppose  she  thought  she  might  now  begin  to  extend  it 
a  little  further." 

"  Fellow !"  exclaimed  the  proud  and  indignant  girl, 
"  your  language  is  insufferable.  You  have  no  right  to 
detain  me  here,  and  still  less  to  insult  me  with  such 
language.  I  insist  upon  your  letting  me  go  imme- 
diately, or  you  may  depend  upon  it  you  will  be  made 
to  pay  dearly  for  your  impertinence." 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  219 

"  You  shall  go,  without  a  doubt,"  said  the  consta- 
ble, "  and  that  too  immediately.  So  eome  at  once,  my 
young  heroine,  and  I  will  take  you  to  a  magistrate, 
and  you  can  give  him  an  account  of  all  your  dignity 
and  importance ;"  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  took  hold  of 
the  proud  heiress  of  Monkton  Park,  and  tried  to  drag 
her  along. 

Augusta,  whose  indignation  now  began  to  be  con- 
verted into  fear,  changed  colour  and  trembled  exceed- 
ingly. "Send  for  my "  papa,",  she  said,  her  voice 
trembling  as  she  spoke,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to 
avoid  discovering  any  signs  of  intimidation.  "  I  in- 
sist upon  your  sending  for  my  papa." 

"  That  will  be  the  magistrate's  business,"  returned 
the  keeper  of  the  peace  ;  "all  that  I  have  to  do  is  to 
take  you  before  him,  that  you  may  account  to  him  for 
all  these  forged  notes  being  in  your  possession." 

"That is  easily  done,"  answered- Augusta,  reviving 
at  the  idea  of  the  simple  explanation  that  it  was  in  her 
power  to  give.  "  I  received  them  from  a  chamber- 
maid, at  Barnham's,  in  exchange  for  a  hundred  dollar 
note  that  I  got  from  my  papa." 

"All  this  sounds  very  fine,"  said  the  seller  of  silks 
and  muslins,  with  an  incredulous  smile,  "and  might 
pass  well  enough  with  one  who  did  not  know  you; 
but  that  is  not  me-  I  know  enough  of  you  to  be  able 
to  answer  for  your  never  having  had  a  hundred  dollars, 
of  good  current  money,  honestly  got,  in  your  posses- 
sion in  your  life  ;  and,  therefore,  that  way  of  account- 
ing for  these  notes  will  not  pass  any  better  than  the 
notes  themselves."  . 

"  Well ;  all  this  is  only  spending  time,"  said  the 
constable,  interrupting  Augusta,  as  she  was  about  to 


220  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

reply.  "  The  magistrate  is  the  proper  person  to  in- 
quire into  the  affair.  You  have  been  detected  in  utter- 
ing forged  money,  and  must  either  clear  yourself  in  the 
eye  of  the  law,  or  endure  the  penalty  of  the  law  for  your 
crime.  So  come  away  at  once.  There  is  no  use  in 
standing  arguing  here."  As  he  spoke,  he  again  took 
hold  of  the  agitated  girl,  who  was  so  overpowered  with 
alarm,  indignation,  and  shame,  as  to  appear  ready  to 
sink  to  the  ground. 

"  Suppose  you  take  her  in  a  carriage,"  said  the 
storekeeper,  who  began  to  feel  something  like  compas- 
sion, as  Augusta's  more  vindictive  passions  gave  way 
to  feelings  which  were  more  calculated  to  excite  sym- 
pathy. This  was  agreed  to,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
their  young  prisoner  was  handed,  or  rather  lifted  into 
a  carriage.  It  was  not  long  before  the  carriage  stopped 
at  the  door  of  a  magistrate,  and  Augusta  was  lifted  out 
as  unresistingly  as  she  had  been"  put  in,  and  almost 
carried  into  a  small  room,  the  door  of  which  she  heard 
unlocked  for  her  admission.  Shocked  beyond  mea- 
sure at  this  disgraceful  entre  into  a  city  which  she  had 
been  so  anxious  to  reach,  the  only  comfort  of  which 
she  was  capable  was  that  of  finding  that  there  was  a 
female  already  in  the  room,  though  the  light  was  too 
indistinct  for  her  to  make  out  the  features. 

"  There  is   a  girl  here  already,  and  on  the  same 

charge,"  said  the  boy  whom  we  have  before  mentioned 

as  having  been  left  to  watch  over  our  favourite  Mary. 

>"  And  pray,  what  is  the  charge  ?"  asked  the  sweetest 

voice  that  had  ever  struck  upon  Augusta's  ear. 

"  Of  circulating  forged  notes,"  returned  the  boy. 

'"  If  I  could  but  get  any  one  to  take  a  letter  for  me 
to  a  friend,"  said  the  same  sweet  voice,  which  Augusta 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  221 

listened  to,  and  felt  her  own  violent  passions  softened 
down  by  its  influence. 

"  I  will  take  it,"  returned  the  boy.  "  There  is  some- 
body here  to  keep  watch  now ;  so  I  will  take  it,  if  you 
will  give  me  it,  and  tell  me  where  it  is  to  go." 

"  As  the  lamp  is  gone  out,  and  I  cannot  see  to  write, 
a  message  will  do.  Be  so  good,  therefore,  as  to  go  to 
the  archbishop,  and  tell  him  that  Mary  M'Donald  begs 
him  to  send  some  one  to  her  assistance." 

"Mary  M'Donald!"  exclaimed  Augusta,  starting 
up,  and  clasping  her  hands  together  in  an  ecstasy  of 
delight.  "  Am  I  beside  Mary  M'Donald  ?  O,  then  I 
am  safe  !  for  I  am  wider  the  protection  of  virtue." 

"  That  is  very  flattering  language,  to  be  used  to  a 
poor  unprotected  girl,"  said  the  modest  Mary,  whose 
cheeks,  could  they  have  been  seen,  would  have  been 
found  to  be  tinged  with  the  deep  blush  of  modesty. 
"  I  cannot  imagine  how  you  can  be  induced  to  pay  me 
so  high  a  compliment." 

"  Because,"  answered  Augusta,  with  all  her  natural 

enthusiasm,  "I  have  heard  of  you  from  Mr.  X ; 

because  I  have  listened  to  the  good  Sisters  while  they 
talked  of  you  ;  because  I  have  watched  you  in  church, 
when  your  whole  soul  was  bent  in  reverence  before 
your  Maker  ;  and  because  I  have  seen  you  kneeling  in 
humble  piety  at  your  father's  grave." 

"  My  father !  my  beloved  father  !"  cried  Mary,  her 
heart  swelling  with  tenderness  at  the  mention  of  his 
name ;  "  had  you  been  alive,  I  should  not  now  have 
been  unprotected." 

"  "We  have  come  to  Baltimore  to  give  you  another 
protector,"  said  Augusta,  in  a  tone  of  the  most  winning 
kindness.  "  Dear  Mary,  my  father  will  be  your  father, 

T2 


222  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

and  my  mother  will  be  your  mother.  You  shall  be 
my  sister,  and  I  have  only  to  beg  that  you  will  try  to 
love  me  as  dearly  as  I  already  love  you." 

"  But  do  you  know  how  poor,  forlorn,  and  friend 
less  I  am?"  asked  Mary. 

"  O,  yes,  I  know  all ;  but  that  is  of  no  importance. 
My  father's  name  makes  no  impression  here,  but  all 
who  are  acquainted  with  Mr.  Monkton,  of  Monkton 
Park,  know  that  he  has  abundance  of  wealth  for  both 
his  daughters." 

"  Mr.  Monkton !"  cried  Mary ;  "  are  you  then  the 
daughter  of  George  Linley's  guardian  ?" 

"  You  know  George  Linley,  then  ?" 

"  O,  yes,"  replied  Mary,  whose  whole  face  glowed 
as  she  spoke;  "he  was  my  playmate  when  a  child, 
and  has  been  one  of  my  kindest  friends  ever  since." 

"  We  shall  all  be  brothers  and  sisters  together, 
then,"  said  Augusta.  "  So  cheer  up,  dear  Mary,"  she 
continued,  as  she  threw  her  arm  round  the  polished 
neck  of  the  interesting  being,  whom  she  would  now,  as 
a  candle  had  been  by  that  time  brought  into  the  room, 
see  and  admire.  Mary  returned  her  caress  in  a  frank 
though  less  familiar  manner,  while  Augusta  continued : 
"  It  is  true  we  are  both  at  present  under  very  curious 
circumstances,  but  it  arises  from  some  mistake,  that 
will  be  explained  as  soon  as  our  friends  come  to  us, 
and  then  we  shall  have  nothing  to  do  but  rejoice  and 
be  happy." 

At  this  instant,  the  door  was  burst  open,  and  the 
constable,  who  stood  near  it,  almost  knocked  over, 
while  George  Linley  rushed  panting  into  the  room. 

"  Mary,  my  own  dear  Mary,  we  have  just  this 
moment  received  your  message,  and  here  is  Mr. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  223 

X ,  and  even  the  archbishop  himself,  coming  to 

your  aid.  Nay,  I  believe  you  would  have  had  all  the 
Sisters,  and  the  whole -train  of  orphans  into  the  bargain, 
to  testify  in  your  favour,  if  it  had  not  been  too  late  for 
them  ta  come  out." 

As  he  spoke,  a  carriage  stopt  at  the  door,  and  the 
venerable  archbishop,  and  Mr.  X — : —  entered. 

The  moment  Mary  saw  the  reverend  prelate,  she 
sunk  on  her  knees  before  him,  to  receive  his  blessing. 
In  consequ§nce  of  the  extreme  heat  of  the. weather, 
and  the  closeness  of  the  room  in  which  she  had  been 
shut  up,  she  had  taken  off  her  bonnet,  and  thrown 
aside  the  little  handkerchief  that  had  been  tied  round 
her  heck,  that  was  thus  left  without  a  covering  to 
conceal  its  fine  form  and  snowy  whiteness,  while  her 
rich  tresses,  which  would  scarcely  submit  to  be  con- 
fined by  a  comb,  partly  hid  her  face,  as  her  head  bent 
forward  over  her  clasped  hands,  to  receive  the  arch- 
bishop's benediction.  Augusta,  notwithstanding  the 
peculiarities  of  her  own  situation,  could  not  but  gaze 
and  admire,  and  think  she  had  never  in  her  life  before 
seen  any  thing  half  so  beautiful. 

*'  I  will  take  the  responsibility  upon  myself,"  said 
the  prelate  to  the  constable,  "  while  I  remove  this 
young  creature  to  a  more  fitting  situation." 

The  constable  bowed,  and  declared  himself  fully 
satisfied ;  and  the  archbishop,  taking  Mary's  hand, 
said,  "  Come,  my  child,  come  with  me,  and  I  will 
convey  you  to  a  safe  asylum  for  the  night."  < 

At  this  instant,  a  hurried  step  was  heard  in  the 
entry,  and  Mr.  Monkton  immediately  came  into  th? 
room. 

"  Papa,  my  dear  papa,  you  have  come   at  last," 


224  THE   TWO    SCHOOLS. 

cried  Augusta,  throwing  herself  into  his  arms,  as  she 
spoke. 

"  O,  Augusta,"  said  the  fond  father,  as  he  embraced 
his  daughter,  "  what  an  alarm  you  have  given  us. 
But  what  is  this  ?"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  turned  his  eyes 
upon  Mary,  who  stood  looking  at  the  father  'arid 
daughter,  and  thinking  that  just  so  she  used  to  be 
embraced  by  a  tender  parent.  "  O^  I  know  it  all ;  I 
understand,  sir,  at  onee,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Mr. 

X ,  "  the  secret  you  had  to  unfold.  My  heart  tells 

me  this  is  my  daughter.  O,  Augusta,  go  and  embrace 
your  sister,  and  let  me  clasp  my  two  children  in  my 
arms  at  once." 

Augusta  scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  and  cer- 
tainly not  understanding  her  father's  full  meaning, 
rushed  into  Mary's  already  opened  arms,  while  Mr. 
Monkton  clasped  them  both  in  his,  and  poured  his 
blessing  on  their  heads. 

"  Mary,"  said  Mr.  X- ,  whose  agitation,  in  spite 

of  his  habitual  self-control,  would  scarcely  allow  him 
to  speak,  "  I  was  the  first  to  announce  to  you  your 
father's  death,  but  I  hope  I  shall  now  make  ample 
amends  for  the  pain  I  then  gave  you,  by  informing  you 
that  he  you  then  mourned  was  not  your  real  parent. 
This  is  your  father,  and  this  is  your  sister,  and  you 
have  a  tender  and  affectionate  mother,  to  whom  you 
will  soon  be  introduced." 

Totally  overpowered  by  this  unexpected  intelligence, 
the  agitated  girl  sunk  at  her  father's  feet,  and  clasped 
his  knees.  She  was  immediately  raised,  and  again 
folded  in  his  arms,  but  it  was  not  till  a  soft  whisper  of 
congratulation  came  to  her  ear,  from  George,  who  had 
stood  a  silent,  but  highly  interested  spectator,  that  the 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  225 

friendly  tears  began  to  flow,  and  relieve  her  over- 
charged heart. 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  repress  your  feelings,  dearest 
Mary,"  said  he,  in  atone  of  the  tenderest  affection,  as 
he  stood  bending  over  her. 

Mr.  Monk  ton;  whose  agitation  had  hitherto  been 
too  great,  to  allow  him  even  to  notice  that  there  was  a 
young  man  in  the  room,  turned  round,  with  a  look  of 
surprise,  as  George's  words  struck  his  ear,  and  said, 
with,  an  inquiring  look,  "-Have  you  any  particular 
interest  in  this  young  lady,  sir?" 

.  ft  Yes,  sir,"  said  George,  in  a  frank  and  manly  tone  ; 
"  I  have  the  interest  of  the  most  ardent  affection,  which 
has  existed  vithout  change,  since  we  were  both  mere 
children ;  an  affection  which  my  parents  both  approved 
of,  and  which  I  hope  my  guardian,  Mr.  Monkton,  will 
not  refuse  to  sanction.'' 

"  You  are  George  Linley,  then,"  exclaimed  the  guar- 
dian, shaking  his  young  ward  cordially  by  the  hand. 
"  This  is,  indeed,  a  happy  meeting !  How  many 
sweet  ties  this  lovely  girl  has  contrived  to  twine  around 
her.  But  Augusta,  my  dear,  we  are  acting  an  unkind 
part  to  your  dear  mother,  to  keep  her  so  long  in  igno- 
rance, both  of  your  safety  and  of  her  new  treasure." 

He  then,  at  the  request  of  the  archbishop,  who  be- 
came responsible  for  Augusta  also,  handed  his  two 
daughters  into  the  carriage  which  had  conveyed  the 

prelate  and.  Mr.  X to   the  magistrate's  ;    while 

George  Linley  went  to  bring  another,  in  which  he 
and  the  two  clergymen  promised  to  follow  him  to 
Barnham's,  as  soon  as  possible.  On  arriving  at  the 
hotel,  Augusta  led  her  new  found  sister  to  her  own 
room;  while  Mr.  Monkton  hastened  to  prepare  his 


226  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

wife  for  the  flood  of  happiness  which  was  about  to 
descend  upon  her,  and  which,  in  its  first  effects, 
he  well  knew  would  be  quite  as  bad  to  bear  as  the 
bitterest  sorrow  could  be.  He  had  barely  time,  how 
ever,  to  excite  her  suspicions  that  her  long  lamented 
child  was  still  in  existence,  and  might  yet,  perhaps,  be 
found,  when  the  archbishop  and  his  companions  ar- 
rived ;  and  in  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  X commenced 

the  narration  that  he  had  received  from  Mrs.  M'Do- 
nald,  with  express  permission,  at  the  time,  from  her  to 
communicate  it  to  the  family  that  she  had  so  much 
injured.  As  our  readers,  however,  would  probably 
wish  to  have  the  relation  more  circumstantially  detailed 
than  he  at  that  time  thought  it  necessary  to  give  it, 
we  shall  take  the  liberty  of  using  our  own  words ; 
especially,  as  it  will  enable  us  at  the  same  time  to 
detail  some  other  circumstances,  that  may  appear  to 
.equire  elucidation. 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  227 


CIJAPTER  XXI. 

SARAH  M'DONALD  was  married  very  young,  and  had 
been  the  mother  of  a  little  girl  only  a  few  weeks, 
when  Mrs.  Monkton's  twins  were  born.  On  inqui- 
ries being  made  for  a  nurse  to  assist  the  young  mother 
in  the  rearing  of  her  treasures,  the  young,  healthy  Mrs. 
M'Donald,  whose  child  was  only  a  few  weeks  older 
than  the  twins,  was  considered  so  very  desirable  a 
person,  that  the  most  tempting  terms  were  offered  to 
induce  her  to  give  up  the  care  of  her  own  child  to 
another,  and  take  the  charge  of  one  of  the  little  co- 
heiresses. Her  husband  had  for  some  time  had  a 
great  desire  to  emigrate  to  America,  and  was  only 
deterred  from  doing  so  by  the  difficulty  of  raising 
money  sufficient  either  for  removing  his  wife  and  child 
to  a  foreign  country,  or  leaving  'them  provided  for  till 
he  was  able  to  send  for  them  to  follow  him.  Mr. 
Monkton's  liberal  offer,  however,  removed  all  diffi- 
culties ;  and  it  was  very  soon  settled  that  he  should 
immediately  embark  for  America ;  that  his  child 
should  be  placed  under  the  care  of  a  sister  of  its  mo- 
ther's ;  and  that  his  wife  should  become  the  nurse  of 
one  of  the  little  Monktons,  till  it  should  no  longer 
require  the  sustenance  she  had  to  give  ;  at  which  time, 
Mr.  Monkton  engaged  to  have  them  both  carefully 
conveyed  to  him  in  whatever  part  of  America  he  might 
be  settled.  We  have  heard  how  her  little  charge 
improved  under  her  care,  and  how  much  its  independ- 


228  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

ence  of  its  mother's  attention  tended  to  estrange  the 
affection  of  that  parent,  who  was  then,  herself,  little 
more  than  a  child ;  and  having  always  been  an  exceed- 
ingly indulged  one,  was  subject  to  the  caprices  so 
easily  acquired  in  such  a  school.  Misfortune,  how- 
ever, that  stern,  rugged  nurse,  soon  restored  her  to  the 
native  meekness  and  humility  of  her  disposition,  and 
made  her  the  affectionate,  gentle,  and  enduring  being 
that  she  ever  after  proved  herself. 

We  know  that  the  dangerous  illness  of  her  mother, 
having  obliged  Mrs.  Monkton  to  be  absent  from  home 
for  several  weeks,  she  left  her  little  Aline  under  the 
care  of  her  nurse,  who  despatched  daily  accounts 
to  her  of  the  child's  health  ;  and  as,  contrary  to  what 
might  be  expected  from  a  woman  in  her  situation,  her 
letters  were  always  long  and  circumstantial,  they  had 
the  effect  of  keeping  the  mind  of  both  parents  per- 
fectly easy  with  regard  to  their  infant.  This  woman, 
who  was  a  native  of  London,  and  had  been  educated 
in  the  school  of  the  famous  Joseph  Lancaster,  had 
acquired  just  enough  of  the  rudiments  of  learning  to 
be  to  her  "  a  dangerous  thing,"  for  she  had  learned  to 
write  a  hand  like  copper-plate,  and  to  spell  with  tole- 
rable propriety  ;  but  had  failed,  when  doing  so,  to 
acquire  either  a  sense  of  religion  or  any  correct  moral 
principles.  With  such  a  state  of  mind,  therefore,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  she  was  open  to  temptation,  when 
she  received  a  letter  from  her  sister,  who  had  a  few 
months  before  removed  to  Manchester,  and  taken  her 
foster  child  with  her,  informing  her  that  a  lady  and 
gentleman,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  that  town,  of  im- 
mense fortune,  having  just  lost  their  only  child,  were 
anxious  to  adopting  hers.  They  were  on  the  point 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  229 

of  leaving  the  kingdom  for  several  years,  and  stipulated 
that  the  child  should  be  given  up  to  them  entirely, 
the  parents  resigning  all  claim  to  it,  and  engaging  not 
to  use  any  means  for  keeping  up  a  knowledge  of  it ; 
on  which  condition  a  thousand  pounds  should  be  paid 
at  the  time  that  the  child  was  delivered  up  to  them.  To 
this  proposal  the  sister  added,  that  if  she  was  disposed 
to  agree  to  it,  she  Avould,  herself,  aid  her  in  deceiving 
her  husband,  by  writing  him  an  account  of  his  child's 
death,  provided  that  she  would  divide  the  bounty 
with  her. 

The  agreement  was  soon  concluded  between  the  two 
sisters,  and  Mrs.  M'Donald  already  began  to  imagine 
herself  in  possession  of  the  money,  which  she  arranged 
to  have  remitted  to  her,  year  after  year,  after  she  had 
joined  her  .husband  ;  in  a  hundred  pounds  each  time  as 
an  annuity  from  Mr.  Monkton,  in  return  for  her  faith- 
ful care  of  his  daughter.  She  waited,  therefore,  only 
for  the  return  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Monkton,  to  give  up 
her  little  charge,  which  was  now  old  enough  to  do 
without  her,  when  a  letter  arrived  from  her  sister,  an- 
nouncing the  death  of  her  child.  This  was  a  disap- 
pointment to  which  the  abandoned  mother  was  but 
little  disposed  to  submit.  The  demon  of  avarice  had 
taken  possession  of  her  heart,  and  after  revolving  in 
her  mind  various  expedients  for  supplying  the  loss, 
the  diabolical  one  of  stealing  her  foster  child  seized 
upon  her  imagination.  She  had  another  sister  still  in 
the  village  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Monkton  Park,  and 
she,  being  no  more  conscientious  than  her  relatives, 
was  easily  persuaded  for  a  small  consideration  to  aid 
her  in  her  plans.  These  were  that  she  should  carry 
her  little  nursling  to  her  sister's  in  the  morning ;  and 
U 


230  THE    TWO   SCHOOLS. 

leaving  it  there,  return  herself  with  a  stuffed  baby  in 
her  arms  dressed  in  the  clothes  of  her  foster  child.  As 
she  was  known  to  possess  the  entire  confidence  of  her 
master  and  mistress,  the  other  servants  of  the  house 
took  but  little  notice  of  her  proceedings  ;  though  it 
was  remembered,  when  inquiries  were  made,  that  she 
had  been  seen  going  down  the  lawn  towards  the  lake. 
On  going  to  the. lake  she  had  fastened  a  scrap  of  the 
frock  on  a  twig  that  overhung  the  water,  and  after 
making  some  foot-prints  on  the  soft  ground  with  one 
of  the  little  shoes,  fastened  a  stone  to  -the  pretended 
child  that  she  had  brought  with  her,  which -caused 
it  to  flow  rapidly  down  the  current  into  that  chasm 
out  of  which  nothing  was  ever  known  to  rise.  She 
then  hastened  with  all  possible  speed  through  a  pri- 
vate gate  of  the  enclosure  to  the  north,  kno',vn  to 
very  few  of  the  family,  but  which  she  had  before  con- 
trived to  have  unfastened  ;  and  proceeded  to  a  private 
part  of  the  public  road,  where  her  sister  was  engaged 
to  meet  her  with  the  little  helpless  being  dressed  in 
clothes  suited  to  its  new  situation.  Here  she  awaited 
the  coming  of  a  stage;  and  this  arriving  in  a  very  few 
minutes,  she  took  a  seat  in  it,  and  was  many  miles 
on  her  way  to  Manchester,  before  the  unfortunate 
father  and  mother  -returned  home  to  inquire  after 
their  child.  As  the  child  both  received  its  nourishment 
from  her  and  fondled  in  her  bosom,  and  called  her 
mammy,  there  was  nothing  about  her  appearance  in 
any  respect  to  excite  suspicion,  or  any  paiticular 
notice  except  her  youthfulness  as  a  mother  and  the  ex- 
treme beauty  of  the  infant.  On  her  arrival  in  Man- 
chester, however,  a  severe  disappointment  awaited  her, 
for  she  found  that  the  lady  and  gentleman  who  had 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  231 

wished  to  adopt  her-child,  had  felt  its  death  as  a  second 
bereavement,  and  despairing  of  having  their  affections 
again  engaged,  had  set  off  immediately  for  the  conti- 
nent to  seek  in  new  scenes  an  alleviation  of  their 
wounded  feelings.  Here  then  was  this  unhappy  wo- 
man caught  in  her  own  snares.  She  now  found  her- 
self burdened  with  the  child  of  another,  which  she 
had  not  only  to  support,  but  was  at  the  same  time  in 
continual  danger  of  being  detected  in  a  crime  for  which 
the  law  would  exact  a  severe  penalty.  Her  only 
chance  therefore  was  to  make  her  escape  with  as  little 
loss  of  time  as  possible  to  America,  and  impose  her 
foster  child  upon  her  husband  as  his  own.  As  Mr. 
Monkton  had  made  a  settlement  with  her  immediately 
before  he  left  home,  and  had  not  only  paid  her  all  he 
owed  her,,  but  had  made  her  a  handsome  present  be- 
sides, as  a  token  of  his  gratitude  for  her  indefatigable 
attention  to  his  child,  she  had  no  difficulties  with  re- 
spect to  money.  She  hastened  therefore  to  Liverpool, 
and  taking  a  passage  in  a  vessel  that  was  ready  to  sail, 
she  was  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  reunited  to  her 
husband,  who  received  the  little  Aline  as  his  own 
Mary,  and  exulted  with  all  the  pride  of  a  fond  father, 
first  in  her  beauty,  and  afterward  in  all  the  various  esti- 
mable qualities  which  gradually  unfolded  as  she  advanc- 
ed in  age.  Though  perfectly  illiterate,  this  truly  respect- 
able man  had  an  acute  and  discriminating  mind,  and  a 
nobleness  of  heart  that  would  have  done  honour  to  the 
most  polished  acquirements.  In  fervent  piety  too,  and 
a  deep  sense  of  religion  which  on  all  occasions  proved 
the  rule  of  his  actions,  he  set  an  example  that  could 
not  fail  to  have  a  powerful  effect  upon  the  sensitive 
heart  of  his  imagined  child ;  and  at  once  secured  her 


232  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

warmest  affection  and  her  highest  admiration  and  es- 
teem. Very  different  was  it  with  'his  unhappy  wife  : 
the  consciousness  of  guilt,  and  a  constant  fear  of  detec- 
tion, cast  a  gloom  over  her  mind,  which,  young  as  she 
was,  made  her  a  prey  to  corroding  anxiety  and  gloomy 
terrors.  The  little  innocent  victim  that  had  been 
made  a  prey  to  her  vile  passions  became  an  object  of 
hatred  to  her,  as  being  a  constant  memorial  of  her  own 
crimes  ;  and  though  the  amiable  girl  made  ceaseless 
endeavours  to  engage  her  tenderness  and  propitiate 
her  affections,  they  were  all  in  vain  ;  for  knowing  her- 
self to  have  been  so  bitter  an  enemy,  she  could  not  be 
convinced  that  she  was  not  hated  as  she  knew  she  de- 
served. 'Cold  reserve  or  fretful  petulance,  therefore, 
were  the  only  returns  that  Mary  (for  SQ  we  will  still 
call  her)  could  gain  in  exchange  for  ^he  most  affec- 
tionate tenderness  and  the  most  submissive  obedience  ; 
but  when,  in  her  tenth  year,  she  happened  to  attract 
the  attention  of  Mrs.  Linley,  and  that  lady  called 
upon  her  supposed  mother  to  offer  her  services  in 
forwarding  the  education  of  her  daughter,  and  assist- 
ing in  the  cultivation  of  talents  which  nature  seemed  to 
have  bestowed  in  so  extraordinary  a  degree,  every  dia- 
bolical passion  seemed  from  that  moment  to  take  pos- 
session of  her  heart.  ..TV , 

On  finding  that  the  mother  of  her  favourite  Mary 
was  English,  Mrs.  Linley  benevolently  sought  to  gra- 
tify her,  by  conversing  with  her  about  her  native 
country,  which,  she  told  her,  she  and  Mr.  Linley  had 
visited  immediately  after  their  marriage,  and  mentioned 
particularly  a  visit  which  they  had  paid,  when  there, 
to  a  friend  of  her  husband's,  a  Mr.  Monkton,  of  Monk- 
ton  Park.  The  name  struck  daggers  to  the  guilty 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  233 

woman's  soul ;  and  fancying  herself  perpetually  in 
danger  from  Mary's  intercourse  with  the  Linley  family, 
it  was  her  constant  aim  to  keep  her  from  them  ;  and  the 
ill  success  of  her  endeavours  was  the  cause  of  all  the 
persecution  and  cruelty  with  which  poor  Mary  had  to 
contend.  The  death  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Linley,  and 
also  of  her  husband,  flattered  her  with  the  hope  of 
being  able  to  release  herself  from  all  this  dangerous 
train  of  connexions,  and  by  putting  Mary  wholly  in 
her  power,  enable  her  to  force  her  into  a  marriage 
with  Smith,  and  so  shut  her  out  from  every  probability 
of  ever  being  discovered  by  her  real  parents.  She 
had,  besides,  another  motive  for  wishing  to  unite  her 
with  Smith.  She  had  herself  entered  into  a  league 
with  that  young  man,  and  two  or  three  others  of  simi- 
lar character,  for  the  forging  of  bank  notes ;  in  which 
she  performed  the  most  essential  part,  the  writing  of 
signatures.  We  have  already  mentioned  her  skill  in 
the  art  of  penmanship,  in  which  she  was  such  an 
adept,  that  she  could  imitate  whatever  hand  she 
pleased  with  the  greatest  accuracy ;  and  was,  on  that 
account,  a  very  important  auxiliary.  As  the  combina- 
tions of  the  guilty,  however,  can  have  no  tie  but  self- 
interest  to  bind  them,  Mrs.  M'Donald  was  anxious  to 
strengthen  her  hold  of  Smith,  through  Mary's  means ; 
and  had,  therefore,  almost  immediately  after  her  hus- 
band's death,  entered  into  an  engagement  with  that 
young  man  that  Mary  should  be  his  wife.  She  had 
never  actually  entered  into  the  business  of  forging 
before  the  death  of  her  husband,  because,  though  the 
subject  had  frequently  been  discussed  between  them, 
she  had  been  deterred  from  involving  herself  in  it  from 
the  difficulty  of  turning  it,  in  any  material  degree,  to 
u  2 


234  THE    TWO   SCHOOLS. 

her  own  advantage.  Money  would  be  of  little  use  to 
her  if  unable  to  spend  it ;  and  that  she  could  not  do 
unknown  to  him,  or  without  his  inquiring  into  tho 
source  from  whence  it  was  derived.  When  his  death 
took  place,  however,  she  felt  herself  uncontrolled  mis- 
tress of  her  own  actions,  as  well  as  of  Mary,  whose 
submissive  obedience  left  her  without  a  doubt,  that, 
when  clothed  with  the  authority  of  an  only  parent,  she 
should  be  able  to  do  with  her  whatever  she  pleased. 
We  are  already  acquainted  with  the  various  means  that 
she  took  to  work  upon  the  gentle  and  conscientious 
girl ;  and  also  with  the  steady  but  respectful  firmness 
with  which  they  were  resisted.  For  a  short  time,  the 
prospect  of  immediate  death  brought  terror  and  remorse 
to  her  guilty  mind ;  and  while  standing,  as  she  be- 
lieved, on  the  very  brink  of  the  grave,  she  sought  to 
propitiate  a  highly  offended  Judge  by  a  partial  confes- 
sion of  her  guilt.  She  imagined,  that  she  would  be 
making  an  atonement  for  her  crimes  by  restoring  Mary 
to  her  natural  protectors  ;  but  persuaded  herself  that 
she  had  no  right  to  disclose  crimes  with  which  others 
were  connected  as  her  accomplices.  This  partial  con- 
fession, therefore,  was  made  to  Mr.  X ,  who,  on 

hearing  the  name  of  Monkton  mentioned,  immediately 
recollected  it  to  be  that  of  the  interesting  family  that 
he  had  seen  a  few  weeks  before  at  Wilmington,  and 
was  further  confirmed  in  the  belief  that  they  were  the 
relatives  of  the  gentle  Mary,  by  recollecting  a  strong 
likeness,  which  had  been  noticed  by  both  the  sisters 
and  himself,  between  Miss  Monkton  and  their  young 
friend.  This,  however,  was  merely  conjecture,  and 
as,  should  he  be  mistaken,  a  considerable  time  must 
elapse  before  her  real  parents  could  be  made  acquainted 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  235 

with  her  existence,  he  thought  it  better  that  Mary 
should  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  subject,  for  the  pre- 
sent especially,  as  any  exposure  of  it  might  induce  the 
woman  to  make  her  escape  before  sufficient  evidence 
of  the  facts  she  had  detailed  had  been  obtained ;  and 
he,  therefore,  contented  himself  with  simply  charging 
Mary  not  to  take  any  important  step  without  first  con- 
sulting him  ;  and  then  proceeded  to  despatch  letters,  by 
various  ways,  to  Mr.  Monkton, 'stating,  that  if  he  had 
ever  lost  a  child,  of  whose  fate  h^  yet  remained  igno- 
rant, he  would,  by  returning  immediately  to  Wilming- 
ton, and  applying  to  him,  hear  tidings  of  her.  One 
of  these  letters  was  received  by  Mr.  Monkton,  when 
at  the  Trenton  Falls,  and  was  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
determination  to  turn  back  and  retrace  his  route.  But 
afraid  of  the  effect  of  the  agitation  and  suspense  on 
Mrs.  Monkton's  delicate  frame,  he  determined  not  to 
give  her  the  slightest  intimation  of  the  nature  of  the 
business  that  called  him  back,  though  this  silence  gave 
his  arrangements  the  air  of  caprice  and  unreasonable- 
ness which  proved  so  offensive  to  Augusta. 

The  confessions  and  humiliations  which  the  near 
prospect  of  death  had  extorted,  lasted  very  little  longer 

than  Mr.  X 's  stay  in   Baltimore,  and  returning 

health  and  renewed  intercourse  with  the  licentious 
Smith,  soon  brought  the  abandoned  woman  back  to  all 
her  former  habits,  and,  with  them,  to  an  increased 
degree  of  hatred  for  the  innocent  being  whom  she  had 
so  cruelly  injured.  More  determined  than  ever,  there- 
fore, to  make  her  the  victim  of  her  snares,  she  was 
resolved,  by  whatever  means,  to  have  her  united  to 
Smith,  before  she  was  claimed  by  her  parents,  and  thus 
to  destroy  the  good  arising  from  the  act  of  retribution 

,;•  - 


•J 

236  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

which,  in  her  temporary  fit  of  remorse,  she  had  been 
induced  to  perform.  As  persuasion  was  found  to  be 
entirely  unavailing,  in  overcoming  Mary's  firm  but 
quiet  resolution,  the  stratagem  of  a  mock  marriage, 
which  they,  at  the  same  time,  knew  would  stand  good 
in  law,  and  would  enable  the  unprincipled  young  man 
to  claim  her  afterwards  as  'his  wife,  was  determined 
upon ;  and  as  this  was  to  be  preceded  by  a  show  of 
disinterestedness  and  kindness  on  Smith's  part,  with 
respect  to  George  Linley's  letter,  little  doubt  was  en- 
tertained of  its  success.  Should  it,  however,  fail,  they 
were  then  to  have  recourse  to  her  being  driven  out  of 
the  house,  when  Smith,  under  pretence  of  protecting 
her,  was  to  inveigle  her  into  his  power. 

But  a  short  time  previous  to  these  events,  Augusta 
had  gone  to  purchase  her  silk  dresses,  which  she  paid 
for  with  some  of  the  notes  that  had  been  brought  to 
her  by  the  chambermaid  of  the  hotel.  Now  this 
chambermaid,  as  may  already  have  been  suspected, 
was  in  league  with  Smith,  and  his  gang  of  forgers,  and 
had  offered  her  services  to  get  the  hundred  dollar  note 
changed,  thinking  it  an  excellent  opportunity  of  dis- 
posing of  some  of  their  bad  money.  Very  soon  after 
Augusta  and  Dawson  had  left  the  store,  the  notes  had 
been  discovered  to  be  forged,  and  one  of  the  shopmen 
immediately  declared  that  he  knew  the  purchaser  to  be 
the  daughter  of  a  woman  who  had  excited  considerable 
curiosity  of  late,  from  the  manner  in  which  she  lived, 
without  any  apparent  means  of  subsistence,  except 
what  her  daughter  could  make  by  painting  articles  for 
the  fancy  stores,  which  she  was  suspected  of  practising 
more  as  a  cloak,  than  as  a  real  effort  to  gain  a  liveli- 
hood. As  the  woman  was  only  the  widow  of  a  com- 


THE    TWQ    SCHOOLS.  237 

mon  porter,  it  was  well  known  that  her  resources 
must  be  very  small,  and  yet  she  was  found,  since  her 
husband's  death,  to  have  dressed  in  a  much  more 
expensive  manner,  and  to  have  lived  in  a  much  more 
costly  style,  than  she  did  when  he  was  living;  all 
which  tended  greatly  to  confirm  the  suspicions  that 
were  excited  by  the  circumstance  of  the  daughter 
having  paid  away  so  many  forged  notes.  It  was 
therefore  agreed  that  the  young  man,  who  declared 
he  had  been  induced  by  the  extreme  beauty  of  the  girl 
to  find  out  where  she  lived,  should  take  a  constable 
with  him,  and  wait  about  the  door  till  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  arresting  her.  This  we  know  he  was 
soon  enabled  to  do,  by  her  being  driven  out  of  the 
house  by  the  monster  who  had  arrogated  to  herself  the 
name  of  mother.  In  the  mean  time,  while  he  and  the 
constable  were  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  their 
destined  victim,  Augusta  had  returned  to  the  store  to 
procure  the  additional  quantity  of  silk  that  was  re- 
quired, and  the  master  of  the  store  congratulated  him- 
self upon  the  unlooked-for  opportunity  of  securing  the 
culprit,  and  immediately  took  the  necessary  means  for 
that  purpose. 

When  Dawson  returned  from  taking  the  pattern 
dress  to  the  dress-makers,  she  found  that  Mrs.  Monk- 
ton  had  lain  down  to  rest,  and  she,  herself,  therefore, 
immediately  set  about  arranging  Augusta's  clothes  in 
her  bedroom,  without  taking  it  .into  consideration,  that 
she  had  never  seen  her  young  lady  return  from  the 
store  to  which  she  had  gone  for  the  silk ;  or,  if  she 
thought  about  it  at  all,  she  only  did  so,  to  conclude 
that  Augusta  had  since,  as  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
doing,  gone  to  walk  with  her  father,  and  take  a  view 


238  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

of  the  city.  Mr.  Monkton,  however,  almost  the 
moment  he  saw  his  family  safe  in  Barnham's,  had 

hastened  in  search  of  Mr.  X ,  and  his  wards ;   for 

he  had  written  to  George  Linley,  from  Utica,  desiring 
that  he  and  his  sister,  would  meet  him  in  Baltimore,  a? 
it  was  uncertain  how  long  he  might  be  detained  in 
that  city,  and  he  was  anxious  to  have  them  as  soon  as 
possible  under  his  own  care ;  and  as  he  had  been 
detained  in  Philadelphia  several  days,  he  had  little 
doubt  of  their  being  already  there.  Had  he  been 
acquainted  with  the  strong  attraction  which  there  was 
in  Baltimore  to  draw  George  to  it,  his  certainty  of 
finding  them  there  would  have  been  still  greater; 
for  the  moment  the  young  man  had  received  his 
guardian's  directions,  he  set  about  obeying  them  with 
the  most  unhesitating  alacrity,  and  arrived  about  an 
hour  before, the  Monktons  themselves  reached  Balti- 
more. Mr.  Monkton  did  not  succeed  in  finding  either 

Mr.  X ,  or  his  wards,  and  therefore,  leaving  his 

card,  he  returned  to  Barnham's,  to  wait  for  their 
calling  on  him.  But  here  an  alarm  awaited  him,  that 
he  had  little  anticipated,  for  his  returning  without 
Augusta  immediately  caused  inquiries  to  be  madt. 
after  her ;  and  finding  that  she  had  never  been  see& 
since  Dawson  had  left  her  at  the  dress-maker's,  the 
most  distressing  alarm  took  possession  of  the  minds  of 
the  terrified  parents.  That  she  was,  even  at  that  mo 
ment  perhaps,  in  the  power  of  Grants,  occurred  to  both, 
at  the  same  instant ;  and  Mr.  Monkton  flew  about  the 
house,  inquiring  of  every  one  he  saw  if  they  knew  any 
thing  of  his  daughter,  without  considering  that  she  was 
a  total  stranger  to  almost  all  the  inmates.  The  boy, 
however,  who  had  taken  Mary's  message  to  the  arch- 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  239 

bishop,  and  who  on  his  return,  had  found,  from  the  con- 
versation that  he  heard,  that  Augusta  was  the  daughter  of 
a  man  of  consequence,  with  the  acuteness  and  sagacity 
so  common  to  children  in  this  country,  had  concluded 
that  the  father  was  likely  to  be  found  at  Barnham's, 
and  thither  he  immediately  repaired,  and  soon  allayed 
their  fears,  though  he  at  the  same  time  increased  their 

astonishment.     Mr.  X ,  who  had  been  engaged 

with  a  sick  call  at  the  time  that  Mr.  Monkton  waited 
upon  him,  had  just  returned  to  the  archbishop's,  whose 
guest  he  was,  when  George  Linley  called  upon  the 
reverend  prelate,  to  consult  him  about  the  best  means 
of  overcoming  Mrs.  M'Donald's  cruel  determination 
to  estrange  him  from  her  daughter  ;  but  he  not  yet  had 
time  to  enter  upon  the  business,  when  the  boy,  who 
was  the  bearer  of  Mary's  message,  was  shown  into  the 
room,  for  he  had  refused  to  deliver  it  to  any  one  but 
the  archbishop  himself.  It  may  well  be  supposed  that 
when  George  heard  of  Mary's  be.ing  in  difficulties,  ha 
lost  no  time  in  flying  to  her  aid,  and  outstripped  both 
the  clergymen,  though  they  were  little  disposed  to 
tarry  by  the  road.  And  thus  it  was  that  the  general 
rencontre  took  place. 


240  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MRS.  MONKTON  had  listened  with  extreme  emotion 

to  the  account,  which  Mr.  X gave  her,  of  the 

manner  in  which  her  child  had  been  torn  from  her, 
and  the  way  in  which  she  had  since  been  brought  up  ; 
but  when  he  came  to  explain  to  her  that  the  interesting 
girl,  which  she  had  seen  at  Wilmington,  was  her 
daughter,  she  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  in  a 
transport  of  delight,  exclaimed, — 

"  And  was  that  beautiful,  that  angelic  being  my 
child  !  O,  how  anxiously  have  I  been  preparing  my 
mind  for  finding  her  coarse,  vulgar,  and  perhaps 
vicious.  But  this  is  happiness,  indeed,  to  think  that 
she  has  been  the  special  care  of  a  protecting  Provi- 
dence, which  has  shielded  her  alike  from  the  contami- 
nations of  poverty  and  the  corruptions  of  wealth.  But 
take  me  to  her,"  she  added,  with  vehemence,  and 
turning,  with  an  appealing  look,  to  her  husband, 
"  Let  me  not  lose  any  more  time  in  folding  her  to  the 
heart  which  yearned  towards  her,  even  with  a  mother's 
love,  from  the  first  moment  that  I  saw  her." 

"You  shall  see  her,  my  dear,  as  soon  as  you  are 
able  to  bear  the  excitement,"  said  Mr.  Monkton. 
"  Compose  yourself  for  the  present,  I  entreat  you  ;  for 
the  certainty  that  she  lives,  and  is  so  well  worthy  of 
your  love,  is  as  much  as  you  now  have  strength  to 
bear." 

"  0,  no  !"  cried  the  agitated  mother ;  "  let  me  see 


THE    TWO    SCHOOLS.  241 

her  !  Let  me  have  her  near  me,  that  I  may  begin  at 
once  to  make  some  reparation  for  the  injuries  I  have 
done  her.  And  let  Augusta  be  called,  that  I  may  make 
her  a  sharer  in  the  happiness  that  seems  too  great  for 
my  bursting  heart." 

At  that  moment  the  room  door  opened,  and  on 
seeing  her  daughter  enter,  Mrs.  Monkton  rose  and 
almost  sprang  forward  to  meet  her. 

"Augusta,  my  dear,  my  beloved  Augusta!"  she 
cried ;  "  come  and  rejoice  with  me,  that  the  child  I 

have  so  long  mourned  as  lost  is  still ,  but  how  is 

this  ?"  she  added,  putting  her  hand  on  her  daughter's 
shoulder,  and  holding  her  at  such  a  distance  as  to 
enable  her  to  view  her  fully.  "  What  does  this  mean  ? 
Alike  ;  yet  different !  O,  yes  !  I  see  it  now.  This  is 
my  Aline,  my  dear,  my  long  lost  Aline  ;"  and  as  she 
spoke,  she  sunk  upon  her  daughter's  neck;  and  would 
thence  have  fallen  to  the  floor,  in  a  fainting  fit,  for  her 
weight  was  too  great  for  the  agitated  girl  to  support  j 
had  not  Mr.  Monkton,  who  anticipated  the  result, 
been  ready  to  receive  her  into  his  arms  and  carry  her 
to  a  sofa. 

The  alarm  of  her  having  fainted  soon  brought 
Augusta  to  her  side  to  weep  over  her,  and  regret  her 
cruel  experiment ;  for  the  fact  was,  that  anxious  to 
satisfy  herself  of  the  extent  of  the  resemblance  that 
existed  between  her  and  her  new-found  sister,  she  had 
requested  Dawson  to  dress  them  exactly  alike ;  espe- 
cially their  heads,  as  the  maid  had  declared,  that  in  the 
dressing  of  their  hair  the  chief  distinction  between 
them  existed ;  and  had  prevailed  upon  her  sister  to  go 
alone  into  the  room,  as  soon  as  her  father  rang  the 
bell,  which  had  before  been  agreed  upon  between 
X 


242  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

them,  as  a  signal  that  her  mother  was  prepared  to 
receive  her  lost  child.  As  Dawson  finished  her 
work,  she  declared  again  and  again  that  she  could 
scarcely  believe  she  had  not  two-  Miss  Augusta's 
beside  her ;  and  the  mother  went  forward  without  a 
doubt  that  she  was  meeting  the  child  whose  lineaments 
had  so  long  been  familiar  to  her  ;  nor  discovered  her 
mistake,  till  a  very  close  view  rendered  visible  those 
traits  of  countenance  which  the  particular  character  of 
each  impressed  upon  them  ;  the  expression  of  digni- 
fied command  in  the  one,  and  that  of  sensibility  and 
retiring  modesty  in  the  other.  Aline  (for  so  we  must 
henceforth  call  her)  knelt  by  the  sofa,  and  watched 
anxiously  for  her  mother  to  open  her  eyes  ;  when  she 
did  so,  she  took  her  hand,  and  with  that  sweetness  of 
tone  for  which  her  voice  was  so  peculiarly  remarkable, 
said, 

"  My  dear  mamma,  look  upon  your  child,  and  say 
you  will  love  her!" 

"  Yes,  my  poor,  long  lost  Aline,"  cried  Mrs.  Monk- 
ton,  throwing  herself  on  the  neck  of  her  daughter, 
"  you  may  well  ask  if  I  can  love  you.  Had  I  not 
failed  in  the  affection  of  a  parent,  you  would  never 
have  been  lost  to  me.  O,  my  poor  child !  how  could 
you  ever  bear  the  miseries  that  my  unnatural  conduct 
has  exposed  you  to  ?"  >~  J| 

"  I  believe,"  replied  Aline,  with  a  modest  smile, 
"  I  may  pray  with  Abdolonymus,  that  I  may  be  able 
to  bear  my  good  fortune  as  well  as  I  bore  my  adver- 
»ity." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  archbishop, "  to  the  propriety  of  that 
wish,  I  believe  no  one  is  so  well  able  to  testify  as  I  am ; 
for  no  one  has  had  such  an  opportunity  of  knowing 


THE    TWO   SCHOOLS.  243 

the  pious  submission  and  humble  patience  with  which 
it  has  been  borne." 

Mr.  Monkton  raised  his  daughter  from  her  mother's 
side,  and  putting  his  arms  tenderly  round  her  waist, 
imprinted  a  kiss  on  her  cheek.  "  Augusta,  iny  love," 
he  added,  drawing  his  other  child  to  him,  and  enfold- 
ing her  in  his  other  arm,  "  you  have  not  only  gained 
a  sister,  but  a  bright  example  by  which  you  may  im 
prove  yeurself ;  and  most  happy  shall  I  be  to  find  you 
willing  te  copy." 

"  What !  even  though  her  model  be  a  firm  Catho- 
lic ?"  said  Mr.  X ,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  father,  returning  the  signifi- 
cant smile  of  the  clergyman  ;  "  even  though  I  find  her 
a  firm  Catholic.  I  will  not  pretend  to  say,  that  I 
would  not  rather  have  found  her  an  Episcopalian  ;  but 
conduct  such  as  hers  has  been  cannot  but  speak  highly 
for  the  profession  of  faith  which  she  has  adopted ;  and 
I  must  acknowledge,  that  the  piety  of  the  Holy  Sisters, 
as  well  as  that  of  some  other  characters  which  I  have 
met  with  in  this  country,  (and  as  he  spoke  he  bowed 
to  the  two  reverend  gentlemen  before  him),  has  had  a 
very  powerful  effect  in  removing  my  prejudices  against 
the  Catholic  religion." 

"  When  I  saw  this  sweet  girl  in  the  church,  at  Wil- 
mington, engaged  with  so  much  ardour  in  the  duties 
of  devotion,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton,  "  I  would  have 
given  the  world  to  feel  as  she  did." 

"  And  I,"  said  Augusta,  "as  I  saw  her  kneeling  at 
the  grave  of  her  supposed  father,  could  not  but  be  con- 
scious, that  I  had  never  before  known  what  religion 
was.  I  saw  that  fortune  had  made  a  great  distinction 


244  THE    TWO    SCHOOLS. 

between  us,  and  yet  I  felt  that  she  possessed  a  treasure 
compared  to  which  any  thing  that  I  was  ever  likely  to 
call  mine,  was  completely  valueless.  You  must  not 
be  angry,  therefore,  papa,  if  I  try  to  make  the  resem- 
blance between  your  two  daughters  still  more  perfect, 
by  endeavouring  to  become  a  Catholic  also." 

"  Let  the  faith  you  adopt  be  received  in  sincerity 
and  truth  ;  and  let  its  fruits  be  such  conduct  as  we  all 
so  much  admire  in  your  sister,  and  it  shall  have  my 
blessing,  whatever  it  may  be." 

At  this  instant,  George  Linley,  who  had  left  the 
room  a  short  time  before,  now  returned,  leading  in  his 
little  sister,  who,  the  moment  she  saw  Aline,  flew  to 
her,  and  clasped  her  arms  round  her  neck. 

"  Mary  !  dear  Mary !  George  says  you  are  not  afraid 
now  to  let  me  speak  to  you." 

"  But  you  know,  Louisa,"  said  her  brother,  smiling 
with  delight,  as  he  looked  at  the  two  beings  he  most 
loved  on  earth,  as  they  stood  caressing  each  other, 
"  you  must  remember  that  I  told  you  to  call  her  Aline 
now,  not  Mary." 

"  O,  well ;  I  shall  learn  by-and-by.  But  I  wish  you 
were  Mary  still,"  she  added,  as  she  again  threw  her 
arms  round  the  neck  of  her  young  friend.  *'  It  does 
not  sound  like  you  to  say  Aline." 

"  You  will  soon  become  accustomed  to  it,  my  dar- 
ling," replied  Aline,  tenderly  ;  "  and  especially  when 
you  find  that  Aline  Monkton  has  a  kind  mamma,  who 
will,  I  am  sure,  love  you,  and  be  a  kind  mamma  to 
you  also." 

"  O,  yes  !  Then  I  am  sure  I  shall  like  Aline  much 
better  than  Mary ;  for  I  was  always  afraid  of  your 


THE   TWO   SCHOOLS.  245 

mother,  when  you  were  Mary  M'Donald,  for  she  used 
to  look  so  crossly  at  you,  and  always  seemed  as  if  she 
could  almost  kill  me,  just  because  I  loved  you." 

"  The  wretch  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Monkton,  grinding 
his  teeth  together,  with  an  expression  of  strong  emo- 
tion, as  the  child's  remark  recalled  to  his  mind  the 
cruelty  that  the  unfeeling  woman  had  exercised  to- 
wards his  daughter;  and  withdrawing  his  arm  from 
the  waist  of  Augusta,  who  had  still  stood  enfolded  in 
his  embrace,  he  began  to  pace  the  floor  with  hasty 
strides.  Aline  immediately  left  Louisa,  and  going  up 
to  her  father,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  The  act 
arrested  his  steps,  and  he  looked  at  her,  as  if  to  inquire 
what  she  had  to  say. 

"My  dear  papa,"  said  the  lovely  girl,  raising  her 
fine  expressive  eyes  to  his  face,  with  a  look  that  went 
to  the  heart  of  all  around  ;  "  I  have  never  yet  asked  a 
favour  of  you.  May  I  hope  that  you  will  grant  this 
first,  that  I  am  going  to  beg  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  love,  if  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do 
so." 

"  Then  let  me  beg,  that  for  the  sake  of  him  who 
acted  the  part  of  the  tenderest  parent  to  me,  and  whom 
I  shall  ever  love  and  reverence  as  a  father,  you  will 
do  all  in  your  power  to  shield  his  unhappy  wife  from 
punishment.  Give  her  the  means,  I  entreat  you,  of 
evading  the  law,  by  making  her  escape  from  the 
country  before  her  crimes  are  made  known." 

Her  father  hesitated  a  moment,  but  at  length  ex- 
claimed, "  It  shall  be  done,  my  Aline.  I  will  forego 
the  revenge  that  I  promised  myself,  and  thus  learn  my 
first  lesson  in  the  school  in  which  you  have  beeii 
educated." 

x* 


246  THE    TWO   SCHOOLS. 

"O,  stop,  papa,"  said  Augusta,  in  a  playful  tone 
of  voice,  for  she  began  to  be  afraid  of  the  effect  of  the 
continued  excitement  on  her  mother's  delicate  frame, 
"you  must  not  go  so  fast,  or  I  am  afraid  you  will 
learn  to  be  a  Catholic  before  I  do." 

"  Do  you  suppose  it  is  necessary  to  be  a  Catholic, 
my  dear  young  lady,  to  know  that  our  Divine  Master 
has  told  us  to  forgive  our  enemies,  and  to  pray  for 
those  who  injure  us  ?"  asked  Mr.  X . 

"  I  know  that  we  are  told  to  do  so,  in  the  Scriptures," 
replied  Augusta,  ingenuously;  "but  I  did  not  imagine 
that  we  were  expected  to  practise  any  thing  so 
unnatural." 

"  There,  my  dear  Augusta,"  said  Mrs.  Monkton, 
"  is  the  great  defect,  I  apprehend,  of  the  school  in 
which  you  have  been  educated.  It  is  not  that  you 
have  not  been  taught  to  call  yourself  a  Catholic,  but 
that  you  have  simply  been  trained  to  go  to  church, 
and  on  that  account  to  imagine  yourself  religious, 
without  ever  thinking  of  making  the  precepts  of  reli- 
gion your  rule  of  conduct." 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  mamma,"  returned  Augusta, 
"  I  am  determined  now  to  set  about  learning  as  fast  as 
possible;  and  Aline  here  is  to  be  my  teacher,"  she 
added,  as  she  kissed  her  sister's  glowing  cheek. 

"And  with  such  an  instructor,  who  could  fail  to 
learn  ?"  exclaimed  George,  whose  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Aline  with  a  look  of  mingled  exultation  and 
fondness. 

"But  after  all,  Mr.  George  Linley,"  said  the  play- 
ful girl,  "  for  I  suppose  I  may  venture  to  acknowledge 
that  I  know  who  you  are,  though  I  have  never  had  the 
honour  of  an  introduction ;  I  do  not  understand  that 


THE   TWO   SCHOOLS.  24? 

you,  though  you  have  been  so  many  years  under  my 
sister's  tutelage,  have  made  any  very  great  progress  in 
your  education." 

"  When  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaint- 
ance a  little  longer,"  answered  George,  laughing,  "  I 
believe  you  will  find  out  that  she  has  taught  me 
good  deal." 

"  Yes,  she  taught  you  to  draw  heads  very  prettily ; 
did  she  not,  George  ?"  asked  Louisa,  with  great  sim- 
plicity. 

"  And  she  will  now  teach  you  a  great  many  things, 
my  darling,"  said  the  blushing  Aline,  stooping  down, 
and  kissing  the  child,  by  way  of  hiding  her  own  con- 
fusion. 

"  0,  yes,  I  know  you  will,  for  George  says  you  are 
going  to  England  too,  and  will  be  always  with  us." 

"  Yes,  my  little  Louisa,  my  third  daughter,"  said 
Mr.  Monkton,  "  we  shall  all  be  together,  and  it  must 
be  our  study  to  make  amends  to  our  sweet  Aline,  by 
the  happiness  of  her  future  life,  for  the  persecutions 
she  has  had  to  endure  at  its  commencement.  We  will 
all  go  to  her  school,  and  make  her  happy  by  showing 
how  much  we  improve  there." 

"  It  is,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  reverend  prelate, 
whose  benevolent  countenance  beamed  with  pious- 
exultation,  "  a  school  of  strict  discipline  and  rigid 
exactions ;  but  happy  are  they  who  submit  to  learn  at 
it ;  for  they  will  then  find  that  their  « ways  are  way* 
of  pleasantness,  and  all  their  paths  are  peace.'  " 


THE    END. 


A     000027664     2 


